


Sacrifices

by tsuki_llama



Series: Distractions [10]
Category: Darker Than Black
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crime, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family, Post-Season 1 AU, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2018-09-01 15:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 75,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8629327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuki_llama/pseuds/tsuki_llama
Summary: Sequel to Distractions - Lost in Translation. After thwarting the Syndicate's attempt to eradicate contractors in the Tokyo Explosion, Hei is forced to flee the country with a price on his head, while Misaki is left to deal with the fallout - alone.





	1. Prologue

Misaki leaned across the counter and added a touch more concealer to the dark circles beneath her eyes. She stared at her reflection: it still didn’t look entirely natural, but from a distance no one would be able to tell that she’d had less than four hours’ sleep in the past four days.

Ootsuka poked her head into the restroom. “Chief, they’re ready for you. And the Minister’s speech writer sent over another draft.”

“Another one?” Misaki took the stapled pages from the other woman and skimmed over the first few paragraphs. The revised text was even more vague and banal than the last draft had been. She dropped it onto the counter. “Do you still have a copy of the one we put together last night?”

“Here. I updated it with the redactions that the Commissioner-General wanted.”

“This is perfect - thanks, Ootsuka.”

The Astronomics Liaison beamed briefly, before covering up the smile with a more suitable sober expression. While the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the Commissioner-General of the National Police Agency argued with other each over what was and what wasn’t appropriate to reveal to the public after EPR’s open attack on the Gate, the two women had spent hours writing up the statement that Misaki would deliver to the press this morning. Ootsuka, as it turned out, had a real gift for taking dry information and crafting it into something that a lay person could connect with. And then the Minister’s speech writer had eviscerated it, replacing all necessary revelations with the same useless platitudes that would satisfy no one.

Neither of the government men had been happy with the fact that Misaki had called the press conference on her own. They’d been even less happy with the details of what she planned to say. And they had been right, on some points; but it was no longer feasible to hide the existence of contractors from the world, and she’d taken the burden of that decision on herself. It was the only way to guarantee that the Syndicate had no voice in the future of contractor relations. Without a voice, they had no power.

“Are you ready, Chief?”

Misaki’s pulse picked up reflexively, and she forced herself to breathe deeply. “Give me a minute - I’ll be right there.”

As the other woman left the restroom, Misaki tucked a loose strand of hair into its clip, then smoothed her shirt collar. There wasn’t a single wrinkle in the fabric, as it had been hanging in a garment bag in Hourai’s former office until ten minutes ago; she’d slept in the suit that she’d been wearing yesterday, and she hadn’t trusted herself not to spill coffee all over this one. She tugged her jacket down, then paused with her hand resting on her belly. _No one can tell; you_ _’re just being silly_.

“You can do this,” she told her reflection. “It’s just a few reporters - no different from a debriefing with your team. _They_ _’re_ part of your team now - you need them on your side. At least, you will if you still have a job tomorrow.”

Her reflection stared back at her, calm, capable, and in charge. “Right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Misaki had never hosted a press conference before; her department typically stayed as far from the public eye as possible. The few that she had sat in on had all been small, with barely half a dozen reporters in attendance. This one would probably attract more, maybe even three times as many; Hourai’s phone had been ringing practically off the hook ever since she’d officially announced the event yesterday afternoon. So it would be a bit larger than a debriefing with her team; but still not all that different. Two dozen would be manageable. Like a joint mission with Organized Crime, she thought as her footsteps echoed down the tiled hall.

She pushed open the door to the ‘stage’ - a podium and row of chairs at the front of the room - and was hit with a wall of sound. Reporters and photographers filled every seat, were crammed against the back wall, lining the sides, and even crouched in the center aisle. There must be a hundred, at least. The continuous murmur of voices picked up when they saw her, and camera flashes popped.

She very nearly turned around right then and there - but then she saw her team, lined up on the other side of the podium waiting for her. Matsumoto smiled thinly, and Kouno gave her a discreet thumbs up. Saitou stared stiffly ahead as Ootsuka slipped into place on his other side. Misaki took a deep breath, and crossed to the podium.

_It_ _’s no different than a debriefing_ , she reminded herself. _Pretend they_ _’re your team_. She set the pages down on the podium and squared the corners neatly, then adjusted the microphone height. Her throat was dry; she should have brought water. Why hadn’t anyone thought to get her a bottle of water?

_It doesn_ _’t matter. Just focus_. She pushed her glasses to the top of her nose, took a deep breath, and began to read.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press. Thank you for coming this morning. My name is Kirihara Misaki, chief of Section Four, Foreign Affairs.”

The din quieted to near-silence; the tapping of keys and scratching of pencils filled the space. Misaki didn’t dare look up from the page. 

“Section Four was officially formed nine years ago, approximately one year after the appearance of Hell’s Gate. Our mandate is to investigate all crimes and instances related to the Gate that may impact public security and safety. Our primary role is in fact to interface with contractors.”

A sudden uproar met her words. People shouted out questions and accusations, one over the other in a confused tangle. “Are you stating that contractors actually -” “- pop culture myth is in fact -” “- so those videos are -” “What do you mean by interface? Has government been -”

Misaki crossed her arms and glared out at the room until the voices subsided. “If you’re all done interrupting me, I’ll continue now,” she said flatly. To her right, one of her subordinates choked back a cough.

After a brief moment to locate her place again, she read, “The existence of contractors has been kept from the public for the past decade by consensus of a global summit convened by Interpol and the United Nations in the fall of nineteen ninety-eight. I won’t go into the history now, as it isn’t relevant. What is relevant is the fact that early yesterday morning, an organized group of contractors launched an assault on Hell’s Gate in open public.”

Again, the room erupted in questions. Again, Misaki waited for them to subside before continuing. “Despite efforts at keeping all knowledge of contractors classified, many rumors have circulated throughout the years, especially here in Tokyo around Hell’s Gate. At the behest of my superiors and in the interest of public safety, most of that knowledge will remain classified. What I can tell you is this: contractors are humans. They are people who, through no fault of their own, have been changed by the Gate. They possess abilities that appear to be supernatural, but in fact have sound scientific explanation. However, they pay a price for these abilities, and part of that price is the loss of a sense of connection to others. Contractors first and foremost act in their own self-interest.”

“Are you saying they’re basically super-powered sociopaths?” someone called out.

Misaki glanced around the room, but couldn’t find who had spoken. “In a way. But remember: contractors have existed for the past ten years. They’ve been living beside you, working beside you. You’ve passed them on the street probably every day.” _And some of you have had your memories of it erased; but we_ _’re not going to bring that up now_. The Commissioner-General had been quite adamant on that point, and Misaki agreed wholeheartedly.

“But if one decides it’s in his self-interest to rob a bank by blasting a hole in the wall, who’s going to stop him?” a woman asked.

“I will,” Misaki said. “My team and I are responsible for investigating contractor-related crime and preventing violence. And as I said, contractors are rational. Attracting the attention of the police - and the public - is _not_ in their best interest. They live as quietly and peacefully as they can.” _At least they would if our governments would let them._

“Then what happened yesterday?” another woman called out. “Why an open attack on the Gate - what is inside that they want?”

A low murmur of agreement followed her words. Of course it would look that way to the public; it was common (albeit erroneous) knowledge that the ‘terrorists’ in South America had fought for control over Heaven’s Gate, thinking that it would grant them some sort of power. It would be reasonable to ascribe the same motives to EPR - if you didn’t know any better.

“The assault was carried out by an organization known as Evening Primrose,” Misaki said, skipping ahead a few lines in her statement. “They didn’t attack for any kind of gain, or power. They were trying to prevent their complete annihilation at the hands of Pandora.” Here she paused, expecting another outburst; instead, the room fell almost silent, her audience staring up at her in stunned confusion.

“For the past several months,” she continued after a moment, “my team has been investigating what we thought was a mole for a large criminal organization in our department. What we ended up uncovering was a massive, nation-wide, and probably global-wide, shadow government known as the Syndicate. The Director of Research at Pandora, Eric Nishijima, was a member. Under his leadership, the scientists at Pandora were using the research facility as a screen to develop a weapon which would result in the destruction of every contractor on the planet. The assault by Evening Primrose yesterday morning was an attempt to distract the Pandora Peacekeepers long enough to get one of their agents inside to sabotage the weapon. Their attempt was successful, though many contractors lost their lives in the process.”

“This is quite a large claim,” a man spoke up suddenly. “Mr. Nishijima is well-known and respected here in the city, and has been a capable leader at Pandora. What proof do you have of any of this? Where is Mr. Nishijima to tell his side of the story?”

Misaki took a deep breath. “My proof is my own eye witness testimony, as well as the testimony of several Pandora scientists who have come forward in the last twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, Mr. Nishijima will not be able to defend himself: he was executed on the spot when the Syndicate’s plan failed, by my immediate superior, Section Four Director Hourai Yoshimitsu. Director Hourai is currently in custody; we have his confession to Nishijima’s murder and attempted cover-up on tape.”

The questions exploded after that. Misaki answered them one at a time, as best she could without straying from the parameters that she’d been given by her superiors. The strongest concerns centered around the formation of the Syndicate, and exactly how much control they had over Pandora and the Gate. The only answer that Misaki could give them was, “Interpol and the UN are conducting independent investigations into this matter; that’s all I can say for now.”

After the fourth repetition of that answer in a row, she was about ready to call an end to the conference. Then a young man stood up. “Toda Toru, _Yomiuri Shimbun_ ,” he said by way of introduction, then continued, “From what I saw yesterday, it took a full military force to combat the contractors that attacked the Gate. I saw a little boy throw a ball that caused the street to swallow up two _tanks_ \- gone without a trace! Your words seemed to confirm one of the most prevalent stories: that contractors are people without a conscience, monsters who will kill without a second thought. Why then are we not supporting the actions of Pandora and this Syndicate?”

There was a low murmur of agreement throughout the room. It was the question that Misaki had been praying no one would think to ask, at least not yet. Her mind raced, trying to come up with a reason that carried more weight than ‘it would be wrong’. She opened her mouth to bullshit her way though, when a second man stood up and raised his hand.

He was in his middle years, with horn rimmed glasses and hair graying at the temples . Misaki debated whether she could risk another  dangerous question on top of the first, but something about the way he was waiting patiently for her to call on him made her pause. “Yes, sir?” she asked after a moment.

The man cleared his throat. “Ten years ago,” he said in a quiet voice that hushed the murmurs around him, “not long after Hell’s Gate appeared, my son changed. Overnight he went from cheerful and full of energy to cold and distant, without a care for the rest of his family. He walked out of the house two days later and never returned. Do you think that he might have become a contractor?”

“That is a very likely theory, yes,” Misaki said.

“If this Evening Primrose organization had not prevented Pandora from carrying out their plan, my son would have died?”

The room was completely silent now. “Yes,” Misaki said. “He and thousands of others would have ceased to exist.”

The man nodded. “Then I owe them my thanks,” he said, and seated himself again.

“I know what the rumors say,” Misaki said, taking back control of the conversation before another question could be asked. “And they’re true: the contractors that first appeared were indeed cold, and heartless, and killed without remorse. But that was ten years ago; they’ve changed since then. I’ve spent my entire police career chasing them down - and working alongside them. I’ve seen them proud; I’ve seen them sad; and I’ve seen them grateful. I’ve seen them die for something that they believed in. Each of the false stars in the sky is linked to the life of an individual contractor; when you watch a star fall, you are watching the death of a human being. Last night dozens of stars fell; dozens of contractors sacrificed their lives for a cause that was larger than themselves. How many of us would do the same?”

She had her listeners’ full attention, and she fixed each face in her gaze as her eyes slowly swept the room. “What the Syndicate, through Pandora, tried to do was genocide. They condemned to death people who were our friends, our parents, our siblings, for no other reason than that they feared them, because they are different. They thought they could get away with it, because who will speak up for a group of people when you don’t even know that they exist? So Evening Primrose stood up for themselves. And _I_ will stand up for them, and so will my team. It’s no longer feasible for contractors to remain hidden in shadows. Evening Primrose wanted public acknowledgment of the existence of contractors, as well as guarantees of full rights as citizens. I propose to give it to them.

“It’s been a decade since the Gate appeared, and it looks like it’s here to stay. So are contractors. If we want to be able to live peacefully side by side, if we want to build a better future for our chil - for our children, we need to accept them, and integrate them into society. The United Nations is convening an emergency summit to discuss this very question; in the meantime, we must move forward with understanding, not fear. Thank you.”

The room was silent as she stepped away from the podium. It wasn’t until she’d reached the side door that the uproar of questions began, and followed her out.


	2. Chapter 2

**One month later - April 1** **1, 2008**

The click of Misaki’s low heels echoed starkly down the concrete corridor. The boots of her escort were duller, though just as loud.

“Just one last checkpoint, ma’am,” the guard said.

“I know; I’ve been here before,” Misaki told him. That single visit had been depressing enough to make her wish that she’d never entered the super-maximum security prison at all. She’d always been aware that a few of the contractors that her team arrested had been sent here for holding, but she’d never had occasion to go herself; by that time they had been long out of Section Four’s custody.

Her team was still knee-deep in the prison’s files, but so far it was looking as if those particularly dangerous contractors had all been transferred out not long after their arrival, or had never arrived at all. Superintendent Suzuki had declined a polygraph interview on the subject, and voluntarily resigned shortly after; they hadn’t charged him with any criminal activity yet, but Misaki was sure that they’d come across something incriminating. The remaining staff had been thoroughly vetted, and she was reasonably sure that the new superintendent was clean - at least as far as the Syndicate was concerned.

At last they reached a steel chain link gate, positioned halfway down the long hallway. CCTV cameras caught every angle of the final checkpoint, as if an intruder could ever get this far on his own. The facility, modeled after similar American prisons, had been built in the third year after the appearance of Hell’s Gate for the express purpose of containing contractors long-term. Buried several levels underground, the first checkpoint sported a backscatter x-ray, metal detectors, motion detectors, and armed personnel with a (very short) list of approved visitors - all of whom underwent a prior background check by Section Four. The offices and administrative areas were just past the first checkpoint; guards stations were after the second; and the prisoners’ cells were beyond the final gate.

The corridor was cold, and beige, and sunless. Misaki hated it. The hairs on the back of her neck had been on end ever since she’d walked through the heavily-guarded ground floor entrance.

"Identification, please,” the guard on the other side of the fence intoned. Misaki took her badge and visitor’s pass on their lanyard from around her neck and dropped them into the tray beneath a window of bulletproof glass. The guard pulled a series of levers, and the slot closed as her badge was transferred to the inside of the cage. He picked up the lanyard, and raised an eyebrow.

“It was the only one I could find,” Misaki said, feeling the blush rising in her cheeks. She’d forgotten her official lanyard in her office, and there had only been one store on the way here that carried anything like what she needed. Bags and purses weren’t allowed beyond the first checkpoint.

The guard shook his head slightly at the blue, Sailor-Moon-patterned lanyard. He studied her badge and the photo on it, then examined something - presumably her personnel file - on his computer screen. “State your name and the purpose of your visit.”

Misaki had already been through this exact procedure four times; but she answered evenly, “Acting Director Kirihara Misaki, Public Security Bureau, Foreign Affairs. Here to interview Former Director Hourai Yoshimitsu. I’m carrying a department-issued Glock twenty-two under my left arm, and a voice recorder in my right jacket pocket.”

The man at the desk nodded at her; she opened the left side of her jacket to reveal the weapon.

“Very good,” the man said. He placed a holographic sticker on the visitor’s pass to join the other three, then sent it back to her side of the fence. A harsh buzzer sounded, and the lock on the door to her right popped with a clang.

“Thank you,” Misaki told her escort, who bowed politely then turned on his heel to head back to his station, footsteps dwindling in a quiet echo. Then replacing her badge and pass around her neck she stepped through. As she did, however, the lanyard swung oddly and caught on an exposed end of chain link, nearly strangling her; the steel edge tore through the shoddy material and the whole array fell to the concrete floor. “Shit,” she muttered, and scooped everything up. The visitor’s pass had a clip that she could fix to her lapel, but her badge and ID had no such feature. “Is it alright if I keep this in my pocket?”

The guard shrugged. “The pass is all that needs to be visible at this point.”

Misaki nodded, and stuffed her badge and the broken lanyard away. “Where is Superintendent Memoto? He was supposed to meet me here.”

“He’s on his way. I’m sorry, but there’s one more step.” The guard held up a metal detector wand.

Misaki suppressed a frown; she’d long advocated for more female guards in higher security facilities, but the bias against women’s ability to ward off dangerous assailants was still strong, especially here. So she raised her arms and let the guard flip open her jacket to reveal the gun, then continue to pass the wand along the outline of her body. That outline was a bit curvier than it had been the last time that she was here, she noted with an internal grimace.

As the guard finished his scan, a new set of footsteps approached from the corridor beyond, these heels sounding much more like Misaki’s than the guards’ uniform boots.

“Director,” Superintendent Memoto said as he turned the corner into the main corridor, “my apologies for keeping you waiting.” The short man stopped in front of Misaki and bowed politely, a bit more deeply than was required, considering their relative ranks. “The room is ready; if you care to take a seat, we will bring the prisoner. May I get you anything while you wait? Coffee?”

Misaki followed Memoto down the corridor and into a side hall. “No, thank you,” she told him with regret. She could have killed for a cup of coffee right then, but her doctor had warned her quite emphatically about keeping her blood pressure down. The explanation that caffeine helped her to relax had not gone over well, even if it was mostly true: she was the most relaxed when she was getting work done, and that took several cups of coffee a day. Used to, anyway.

“He’s been a model prisoner thus far,” Memoto told her as they walked. “Always civil and cooperative with the guards, no complaints about the conditions.”

“How does he spend his time?”

“Reading, mostly, from the prison library - a grand total of ten books. As per your instructions, he has no access to internet or television; but he is bearing the boredom well.”

Biding his time, no doubt, she thought. With no access to the outside world, Hourai could have no idea how things had changed since the Tokyo Explosion. Not that they’d changed a great deal; but until the political chaos surrounding the announcement of the existence of contractor’s and the Syndicate’s machinations calmed down, she couldn’t risk him learning anything that could give him a foothold in negotiating his position.

Of course, there were the guards. Just because they were instructed not to engage him didn’t mean that they wouldn’t. Maybe she ought to request an audit of the current week’s surveillance tapes, just to be sure.

The room that the superintendent led her to was small and bare. Along one wall was a bulletproof observation window, and beige security cameras were perched in two corners. It was a decidedly uncomfortable room; but visits to this prison weren’t designed to be comfortable.

“Are you sure I can’t get you any coffee?”

Misaki took a seat at the poured concrete table. “I’m fine.”

The prison administrator bowed. “Let us know if there’s anything you need, ma’am; the guard is bringing him up now.”

“Thank you.” Misaki let her tone convey his dismissal. Memoto backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. A stray draft brushed the exposed skin on her neck; she suppressed a shiver.

She set her voice recorder on the table, nudging it until it was square with the edge. A bulb in the bank of overhead fluorescent lights flickered fitfully. Misaki wished that it would just burn out, already - the small room was too bright as it was, and the faint buzzing was beginning to give her a headache. And it didn’t help that this was the last place she wanted to be today.

The concrete stool was cold and hard. She tried not squirm.

After an interminable wait, the door to the interrogation room opened and a guard led Hourai inside. Misaki focused on keeping her expression cold and distant, as if she had zero interest in his presence.

But it was hard not to stare. The orange-clad former Director of Foreign Affairs was much thinner than he had been the last time that Misaki had visited; an overgrown gray-streaked beard did little to hide the loose skin of his face. As before, he was chained hand and foot. A black cloth bag covered his limp right hand.

The guard pushed Hourai down onto the chair across the table from her and secured first his arm shackles, then his feet, to a metal rod running across the center of the table. The security was probably overkill considering his condition; but it was the procedure in this facility, in which his murder of a high-ranking official and conspiracy to commit genocide had earned him a place.

Misaki switched on her voice recorder and pushed it across the smooth surface until it was between them.

“Anything else you need, ma’am?” the guard asked.

“No, that’s all.”

It wasn’t until the guard had shut the door behind him that Hourai finally spoke. “Chief Kirihara, this is a pleasant surprise.” The familiar cold, impersonal voice turned her stomach.

“It’s Acting Director Kirihara now.”

“Oh, congratulations. I always knew you had it in you to do well; it’s why I chose you as my protégé, after all. You don’t look very well - are you ill?”

“Indigestion,” Misaki said flatly.

“I’d hate to think that the work is getting to you. Though given the power vacuum left by the Tokyo Explosion coupled with the relatively small size of Section Four, you must have all been working double shifts to keep up; I’m afraid I did warn you about that possibility. Having to resort to sending the Astronomics liaison to question prisoners -”

“That’s no longer any of your concern,” Misaki snapped, though inwardly she was pleased. He was fishing for information, which meant that their efforts at keeping any details about events in the outside world from him were working. No phone calls, and no visitors except for Saitou on Mondays and Matsumoto on Thursdays, reading from the same list of questions on each visit. Hourai had steadfastly refused to answer even the most innocuous queries; but Saitou had reported that each week the former director appeared to grow increasingly frustrated by the lack of attention he was getting from his former subordinates. Sending Ootsuka had been calculated to wound his pride, and it seemed to have worked. Misaki had to play her cards carefully today. “Shall we cut the small talk? I’m not here to catch up on old times.”

“I assume that the fact that you are here yourself, rather than one of your subordinates, means that the questions will be different today?” His voice, despite its bored tone, betrayed a hint of interest.

“Just one question: where are the Syndicate’s servers?”

The fingers on Hourai’s left hand twitched. “I beg your pardon?”

“A central server system containing the entirety of the Syndicate’s Gate research, contractor files, and personnel files, among other things.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know it exists; and I know that you ordered Pandora’s network be disconnected from it just prior to the Tokyo Explosion, as a precaution.”

Hourai’s hand was clenched into a fist now, though he didn’t seem to be aware of it. “And who did you get this information from?”

“Sergei Vectrof.”

That interview had been a huge breakthrough in Section Four and Interpol’s joint investigation into Pandora. Vectrof had persistently denied any knowledge of the Syndicate’s activities, claiming that he had been nothing but a scientist, interested only in studying the physics of the Gate. Supposedly he had been brought in to complete Dr. Schroeder’s experiments at the last minute, after the man’s abduction by EPR, without knowing their purpose.

It was a convincing story, one that most of the investigators believed; until one of his subordinates, a young Indian woman, had sought out Misaki and confessed to being a Syndicate member. In the process, she detailed everything that she knew of her boss’s involvement - most of which she’d collected over the course of her own, secret investigation. She’d told Misaki that she would face whatever consequences she deserved; telling the truth was more important than salvaging her position.

She’d also told Misaki that her zeal in uncovering information about the Syndicate had been inspired by a contractor she’d worked with briefly, a young man named Li who had been posing as a janitor at Pandora.

“Vectrof was quite a mine of information,” Misaki continued, forcibly pushing aside the memory of her interview with Mina Kandaswamy. “Once he realized that there was no point in lying any longer. You’re in the same position now, Hourai.” She didn’t miss his flinch at the use of his name without a title. Saitou had been right; it was time to push. “It’s only a matter of time before we find it. You’ll be damned either way; but it’s in your best self-interest to help us find it. Do so, and we’ll accept a plea.”

Hourai stared at her for a long minute, unspeaking. Misaki stared right back, keeping her expression neutral despite the way he made her skin crawl. Or maybe that was just that stray draft again.

“You must be quite proud of yourself, _Director_ Kirihara,” he said at last.

“Not especially. I’m just doing my job like any police officer.”

“You’d sell out your own father to get another gold star on your record, wouldn’t you,” he sneered. “Or have you done it already?”

Misaki counted to three in an attempt to slow her heart rate before speaking. “My father’s involvement with the Syndicate is currently being investigated,” she lied. “Any criminal activity will be duly prosecuted.” She picked up her voice recorder and stood. “I think we’re done here. Sending any more of my people for interviews is a waste of valuable resources; you’ll see us at your trial.”

She turned to leave, and got so far as put her hand on the door handle before Hourai said, “Hold on; I haven’t given my answer yet.”

Misaki faced him again, crossing her arms impatiently.

He leveled a hard gaze at her, then said, “I want my lawyer to be present and a signed agreement in my hands first.”

“Done.”

A pair of guards were waiting outside the interrogation room; while one entered the room to deal with Hourai, the other escorted her back through the long maze of corridors. She had to pause yet again at each checkpoint to undergo a security screen, as if there was anything inside this place that she could possibly want to take out. It wasn’t until she reached the ground floor that she was allowed to have her purse and phone back.

As soon as she stood in the warm spring sun once again, Misaki heaved a huge sigh of relief. Finally. An entire month of round-the-clock, exhausting investigation, and at last they were one step closer to uncovering the remnants of the Syndicate. That there was still at least one high-ranking member at large she had no doubt - there had been too many mysterious disappearances of key subjects and ‘accidental’ deaths and property destruction at the worst possible times.

What she needed more than anything was to find this server. The Syndicate wouldn’t dare delete all that valuable information, not while they still hoped to return to power. And as long as Hell’s Gate existed, there would be somebody determined to use it to erase contractors and dolls from the face of the earth. Now she just had to get in contact with Hourai’s lawyer, and get a signature on the deal that she’d written up weeks ago. It made very, very few concessions; there would be no bargaining.

A buzzing in her purse disrupted her train of thought. Misaki pulled out her phone and glanced at the message. It was from Kanami: _I_ _’m here, why aren’t you??_

“Shit,” she muttered, and hurried to her car.


	3. Chapter 3

Kanami was flipping through a months-old housekeeping magazine in the waiting room when Misaki arrived at the clinic. 

“I’m sorry,” Misaki said breathlessly, sitting down beside her. “I lost track of time.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” her friend said. “It’s  your appointment. I have to ask though - would you have showed at all, if I hadn’t texted?”

“Of course! …I just might have been a little late.” Truthfully, she didn’t want to be here at all. Doctor’s exams always felt so…invasive to begin with, and her first antenatal visit three weeks ago had been even worse. The lecture that she had gotten about not replacing her birth control in a timely manner hadn’t exactly been enjoyable either. 

Misaki took the clipboard that a nurse handed her and signed herself in. The names above hers had all been crossed off, but the little waiting room was still full. All women; all housewives. Some were visibly pregnant, and a couple had young children in tow. 

“Misaki, you’re fifteen minutes late as it is; what was more important than this?”

She glanced around the room again, then lowered her voice. “I was at the detention center speaking with Hourai.”

“Oh?” Kanami leafed through the magazine. “And how’s the smug bastard doing these days?”

“Not so smug anymore. He -” But Misaki broke off when she caught part of the conversation that was happening between two women down the row from her and Kanami.

“…contractors everywhere!.” one woman was saying. A toddler was standing by her side looking about the room curiously. Kanami smiled at him and waggled her fingers; the child smiled stickily in response. “There must be some kind of genetic screen,” the woman continued. “Otherwise, how are we supposed to know?”

“I don’t know,” said the other, bouncing a baby on her knee. “I read in the paper this morning a list of signs you’re supposed to watch out for, changes in behavior, that sort of thing. But when they’re this young, how do you what’s normal or not? They say that contractors don’t feel love for their families anymore - if Jomei ever…” she trailed off; Misaki could hear the tears in her voice. “How could I bear it? My husband told me the other day that he would never allow a contractor in the family, son or not.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” the first woman said soothingly, in direct contradiction to her earlier statement. Intent on her conversation, she didn’t notice her child detach itself from her side and toddle over towards Misaki and Kanami. Misaki shifted her legs further to the side, but the child was making a beeline straight for her. “They say it only happens to adults. By the time Jomei and Takeo are grown up, they’ll have figured out a cure.”

The child toddled up to Misaki’s chair and tugged at her trousers. She extricated the fabric; it was slightly sticky, she noted with a grimace.

“Ba?” the child said, reaching out to tug again. 

“What?” Misaki asked and scooted a bit closer to Kanami and out of the child’s immediate reach. Why wasn’t its mother paying any attention? She glanced over at the other women, wondering if she should interrupt.

Kanami dropped her magazine and scooped the child up into her lap. “Aw, look at you, what a sweetie!” she cooed to burbling laughter. “Where’s your mama?”

“Ba!” the child said.

“Is that right?” Kanami asked in all seriousness.

“That’s not even a word,” Misaki protested.

“It is to a baby,” her friend laughed. 

Just then, the woman finally noticed that she’d lost her child, and hurried over to the two them, apologizing profusely. The toddler reached out eagerly and Kanami passed it into its mother’s arms.

“Don’t worry about it,” she told the woman, who Misaki noticed with a shock was quite young. “He’s a little doll!”

The woman smiled and thanked Kanami for the compliment, bowing. As she straightened, she glanced at Misaki, and her eyes widened. “Are you - I’m sorry, but aren’t you the police woman from the news? The one who - who works with contractors?” She said the last word in a hushed tone, as if it was still an international secret.

“Yes,” Misaki said.

The woman bit her lip nervously. “Can you tell me - is it true, that only adults become contractors?”

“The youngest case reported was fourteen,” Misaki answered. “But that was unconfirmed.” The women didn’t look mollified at all, and Misaki sighed. “Yes,” she clarified. “It only happens to adults.”

Relief washed over the woman’s face. Misaki felt slightly guilty. What she’d told the woman was technically true, from the standpoint of Pandora’s official records. However, she herself knew of a case much younger even than fourteen. Hei’s sister, Xing, had only been nine when she’d turned. Misaki had already spent several sleepless nights imaging what that would be like, to raise a sweet little girl for nine years, only to have her become a cold and heartless killer before she’d even reached puberty.

“Are  you having a baby?” the woman asked, her words growing less polite and more friendly.

No, I’m just here for the fun of it , Misaki thought sourly. She was in no mood to make friends in the doctor’s waiting room. “Yes,” she said in a clipped tone.

“What does your husband say, about you having such a dangerous job? I mean, you’ll have to quit soon won’t you?”

“I’m not married.”

The woman’s face went pink with embarrassment, but even so, she continued, “Are you worried, at all? About your baby, and contractors?”

“Of course not. As I’ve said in every interview I’ve given, there is nothing to be afraid of. Contractors are people just like the rest of us.”

Fortunately her tone seemed to at last get through to the woman. She thanked Misaki, apologized again, and hurried back to her friend, clutching her child so tightly that the boy began to cry.

“She looks hardly old enough to be out of school,” Misaki said as they watched the woman trying to comfort her child.

Kanami shrugged, waving and smiling at the pudgy wet face sobbing over its mother’s shoulder. “Age doesn’t have much to do with motherhood. Anyway - what were you going to say about Hourai?”

“Oh. Just that he finally agreed to talk.”

“No kidding? Misaki, that’s fantastic!”

“All that hard work is paying off at last,” Misaki said with a tired sigh. “Damn, that reminds me - I need to call his lawyer.” She dug around in her purse until she found her phone.

“Can’t it wait at least until after your appointment?” Kanami frowned. “You’ve already waited a month, what’s thirty more minutes?”

“I know; but I want to get the process moving as soon as possible. We -”

“Kirihara?” 

Misaki’s pulse jumped; she looked up to see a nurse standing in the doorway to the office interior, scanning the waiting room.

“Here,” Kanami said when Misaki didn’t answer, and rose from her chair. She gestured for Misaki to stand as well.

“This’ll just take a minute.” Misaki started to dial, but Kanami took the phone from her hand.

“Baby first; work second. Come on.”

~~~~o~~~~

“Is this really necessary?” Misaki asked as they waited in the exam room for the ultrasound technician. “What can they possibly see this early?” She was stretched out on the inclined table; Kanami sat in the chair next to it. It was hardly a comfortable position, but at least she was allowed to keep her clothes on for this visit.

“Misaki, relax - it’s just a dating scan. It’s a standard procedure.”

“But if there is anything wrong, will they know?” 

Kanami shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I thought you went to medical school.”

“Obstetrics wasn’t exactly my focus, and pregnancy isn’t something that my patients have to worry about.”

“Right.” Misaki hesitated. “Tell me again that there’s nothing hereditary about contractors?”

Kanami reached over and squeezed her hand. “Misaki, there’s nothing to be concerned about. You know that as well as I do: contractor traits aren’t linked to genes and aren’t incorporated into the germ line, so they can’t be inherited. But let’s say that they could - would it make a difference?”

“No,” Misaki answered immediately. “But…things are going to be hard enough as it is; I don’t need something like that to have to deal with as well.” And she knew in her gut that, whatever Hei’s reaction to being a father would be, he would be horrified at the thought of placing his sister’s burden on his child. She couldn’t put him through that; assuming that he would ever had the chance to learn of it.

“Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll -”

“Good afternoon, Miss Kirihara,” the ultrasound technician said as she walked into the room. But she paused when she saw Kanami’s hand clasped around Misaki’s. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is this your…”

“Friend,” Kanami supplied, letting go. “I’m here for moral support.”

The nurse looked visibly relieved. “Ah. Your husband had to work, I expect.”

“I’m not married,” Misaki said automatically - and immediately regretted it when the nurse’s expression turned even stonier. It wasn’t the first time she’d gotten such a reaction from clinic staff, and she dreaded the day when she’d no longer be able to conceal her expanding waistline.

The nurse set up the equipment in silence, then ordered Misaki to lie back and lift her shirt. Misaki flinched when the other woman rubbed cold gel on her skin without even a warning. 

“Doctor Eida is estimating you at about eleven weeks,” the nurse said as she moved the ultrasound wand slowly across Misaki’s lower belly while watching the monitor. Now that she was immersed in her routine, her tone had grown slightly less frosty, though could hardly be called warm. “You were on birth control when you got pregnant - an IUD, correct?”

“Yes,” Misaki said. “The doctor removed it at my last appointment.”

“Did he talk to you about your increased risk for miscarriage?”

“Yes,” she said again. She’d been trying not to think about that. It wasn’t like she would have any control over it; whatever would happen would happen. Kanami reached over and squeezed her hand.

“Good. You need to be careful and take care of yourself. Make sure you take your vitamins and keep your stress levels - ah,” the nurse said suddenly, pausing the wand a particular spot on Misaki’s belly. Misaki’s heart leapt into her throat; but then the nurse continued, “There we are.”

“Oh, look!” Kanami practically squeaked. “It’s so tiny!”

Misaki squinted at the screen, unexpected relief flooding her veins. “Where?”

“Right here,” the nurse said, tapping a whiter blotch near the center of the grainy gray image.

“That?” She tilted her head to get a better angle. “It looks like a turtle.”

Kanami snorted, and the nurse frowned. Misaki had no idea what they were seeing on the screen. 

This whole thing was so surreal. Most days she still had trouble believing that she was actually pregnant. Aside from the daily nausea and the slow thickening of her waist, she felt perfectly normal. All the websites that she had read said that she still had another ten or so weeks to go before she would be able to feel any movement. While the idea freaked her out a little, she wished it would start earlier, just so she could have that solid confirmation that yes, this was really happening. She just couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea that a new life was growing inside of her, something that would eventually become a tiny, living, thinking person. A person with a name, a personality, a future; a person whose entire existence would depend completely on her for the next two decades. That already depended on her.

It was terrifying.

“This is what we’d expect at ten to eleven weeks,” the nurse said brusquely. She switched off the monitor and handed Misaki a towel to clean her skin with. “I think we can confirm your estimated date of delivery for October thirty-first. How has your appetite been?”

Misaki shrugged, wiping up the last of the gel. “Fine. I still can’t eat anything greasy though.”

“Oh, that’s good; a greasy diet isn’t good for babies, and you’re already gaining a bit more weight than we like to see. What about the nausea?”

“Still awful.” Misaki tugged her shirt back down, fighting against the blush she could feel rising in her cheeks. She didn’t understand how she could be constantly starving and feel like she was about to throw up at the same time, but that had been her reality for the past month. She definitely wasn’t overeating, though; okay, sometimes she had an extra bento at lunch, but she was working eighteen-hour days, sometimes longer. It was necessary fuel.

“Morning sickness usually clears up by week twelve or so; if it hasn’t improved by your next appointment make sure to tell us. Would you like a copy?”

“A copy?”

“Of the image.”

“Oh. I - I guess so. Yes.”

~~~~o~~~~

"The look on that woman's face when she thought we - I can't wait to tell Hana, she'll be so pissed!" Kanami laughed as they sat down a table in the little tea shop down the street from the clinic.

"I'm sorry," Misaki said, though she wasn't exactly sure what she was apologizing for. "But thanks for coming with me; you didn't have to." She hadn’t even thought to ask for company, but when Kanami suggested it she’d realized that she really didn’t want to go alone.

"Don’t worry about it," Kanami said, waving a hand. “You know I love anything to do with kids. Can I see the photo again?” She took it with a warm smile. “You know, I guess it does look a bit like a turtle. So, how are you doing - I mean, really?”

Misaki blew on her tea. “I’m alright. Still - still adjusting, I guess. I haven’t had time to sit down and process everything yet. Maybe once I get everything from Hourai; then we’ll finally be able to close in on this mystery Syndicate member. I’m sure there’s still someone out there, pulling the strings. It’s hard enough just trying to -”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

Kanami set the ultrasound photo on the table between them. “Deflecting. I didn’t ask how work is, I asked how  you are.”

“Oh.” Misaki sighed and rubbed her temple. “I’m sorry; it’s not on purpose. But I’m fine - really,” she added when her friend raised a skeptical eyebrow.

It was the truth; mostly. Her time was so taken up with cleaning up the aftermath of the Tokyo Explosion and the innumerable, never-ending consequences of revealing the existence of contractors to the world that she had barely a moment to think about herself and her own situation. When she went home, it was only to catch a few hours of sleep before heading back to headquarters. 

And despite the fact that he’d left no visible trace of his existence behind, everywhere she looked she saw Hei. She saw him gazing thoughtfully at the photos on her bookshelf, or standing over the stove stirring some rice. He was in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, his arm wrapped around her waist as she brushed her teeth and set the brush back into the cup next to his. The emptiness that she felt when she arrived home each night was almost physically painful. Her scarf had been hanging in her window for the past month, even though she knew that he’d left Japan that very first night; she just couldn’t bring herself to take it down. 

Gradually she became aware that Kanami was still waiting for more of an answer. “I’m fine,” she repeated. “I just…worry about him, sometimes. Is he still in Shanghai?”

“No; looks like he’s heading south, towards Hong Kong maybe. His star is still active a couple nights a week, and at least one or two others always fall around it.”

Misaki stared into her tea cup and forced the anxiety to the back of her mind. Hei would be fine; he knew how to take care of himself. The best way to help him would be to shut down the Syndicate for good and lift the price from his head.

“I did notice something interesting the other day,” Kanami continued; Misaki glanced up. “A class B star seems to be following his movements, like it’s traveling with him.”

“Class B? What’s that?”

“A smaller star, one that doesn’t emit synchrotron radiation like contractors’ stars - a doll.”

Misaki’s brow furrowed. “Dolls have stars? I didn’t know that; I thought they were all contractors.”

Her friend winked. “Astrophysicist insider knowledge. It’s almost impossible to link any one star to a particular doll, and since they don’t have any activity that we can detect, it doesn’t much matter. Only a couple labs in the world are researching them, and as long as dolls remain classified, there’s no need to share that information. Anyway, as closely as  this star is tied to BK-201, I’m pretty sure it’s Yin.”

“After seeing the tobacco shop boarded up, I had hoped…” Misaki inhaled deeply. “I’m glad he was able to take her with him; I’d hate for him to have to be alone out there.”

Kanami was giving her a pitying look, but before she could say anything, Misaki’s phone began to ring. Misaki fished it out of her bag and glanced at the screen. “Shit,” she muttered, and hit  ignore .

“Let me guess - your dad?”

Misaki took a sip of tea instead of responding.

“Misaki, you’re going to have to talk to him at some point.”

“What is there to talk about?” she said, setting her cup down so hard that tea sloshed into the saucer. “He won’t stop lying to me about his involvement in the Syndicate! I don’t care what his reasons were; if I can’t trust my own father, I can’t trust anyone. And…I have no idea how to tell him about - about my situation. He was part of a plot to commit genocide on contractors; what will he say if he finds out that I’ve been sleeping with one?”

“He doesn’t have to know that little detail, does he? I mean, I thought you were planning on keeping the father’s identity secret.”

“Of course I am. If anyone even suspects, my credibility will be gone in an instant; and who knows what the Syndicate or anyone with an interest in manipulating either me or Hei will try to do.” The memory of a photograph of her kissing the Black Reaper in a rainy street floated through her mind. She was positive that Hei had destroyed the copies that had been given to him, but she had no idea what had happened to the originals, or if the man who had taken them was still out there, somewhere. Was he still working for the Syndicate, or had he cut and run after the Tokyo Explosion? Had he given copies to anyone else?

Her hand was pressed against her stomach, she realized. Self-consciously, she lifted it and picked up her cup for another sip. “Anyway, you’re the only person who knows; I’m sure Saitou will figure it out once I…well, once I can’t hide it anymore. But I can’t risk the circle getting any wider than that. It’s just not safe for either of us. For the three of us, I mean. God, I’m two people now - I’ll never get used to that.”

Kanami regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment, then said, “My mom was asking about you the other day.”

Misaki blinked at the sudden shift in topic. “She was?”

Kanami nodded. “She saw your last press conference, and said to tell you that she’s very proud of her fourth daughter for not taking any shit from those dumbass reporters, but she’s worried that you’re not getting enough sleep. Also, you’re invited for dinner any time you get tired of frozen meals.”

Misaki smiled. She’d spent quite a lot of afternoons and evenings at her best friend’s house in the months after her mother had died, when her father had been so taken up with grief that he could hardly bear to come home from the office; so much so that Ishizaki Laura had named her an honorary daughter. But then, ‘Mama Ishizaki’, as she was known in the neighborhood, adopted all the building’s children. She’d tried teaching Misaki to cook so that she and her father wouldn’t have to rely on prepackaged food, but Misaki had given up after the fifth failed attempt in a row to boil an egg.

“What did you tell her? About me, I mean.”

“Just that you were overworked and overstressed, as usual,” Kanami said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to tell her about the baby yourself, so I didn’t say anything about that.”

“Oh - thanks,” Misaki said gratefully. “I don’t mind if you tell her though.”

Kanami raised an eyebrow. “Anything to avoid having to do it yourself? I will, don’t worry; maybe this will get her off my back about grandkids. She already has Hiroshi and a whole neighborhood full of the little monsters, I don’t know why she needs me to spawn as well. Thanks for taking that bullet for me.” She grinned, and Misaki snorted a laugh. “But seriously, Misaki, you’re going to have to learn how to say it eventually; this isn’t exactly something that you can hide for too much longer.”

“Yeah. I know.” Misaki sighed. Wishing that she’d never have to tell anyone was ridiculous and she knew it; yet she wished it anyway. She dreaded what her team would think when they found out - they would lose all respect for her. Especially Saitou. Mama Ishizaki would disown her. And her father…

Misaki gazed down at the photo that was still sitting on the table top and ran her finger over the little white blotch in the image. “Do you think...do you think I'm making the right decision?"

Kanami took a long sip of tea and considered. "I don't think there is a right or a wrong answer. I mean, you know full well what you're committing to. Are you thinking about changing your mind?”

“No. No, I’ve decided. I just wish I knew what Hei would want.”

“Misaki,” Kanami said gently, “he isn’t here. He might not ever come back to Tokyo. The only thing that matters is what  you want.”

“I know. This is what I want.”

“Why?”

Misaki looked up from the photo. “Why? What kind of question is that?”

”The kind that I haven’t heard you answer yet,” Kanami said, regarding her placidly. “We’ve known each other for a long time, and you’ve never even  talked about wanting kids. Now you have a brief affair with a man you barely know, and you want to raise his child? Why?”

“I’m not even sure, really,” Misaki said. “It’s just…I miss him so much. I don’t know how, but in that short time he became such a huge part of my life. And now he’s gone, like he never even existed. It actually feels sort of like it did when Mom died,” she added hesitantly. “My apartment never felt so empty before. It’s…it’s lonely.” She placed her hand over stomach. “I know that having a baby just to have some company is stupid, but…Hei was always so lonely too. I think he’d hate the idea of himself as a father, but family means everything to him. If he ever comes back…he’ll have one waiting for him.”

“And if he doesn’t come back?” Kanami’s voice was gentle, but even so Misaki flinched a little.

“Then I’ll have something of his to remember him by,” she said quietly. 

“Well, just so long as you don’t try and do this all on your own. Talk to your dad. It won’t be as bad as you’re afraid of, I promise.”

“I will - after he comes clean about his involvement with the Syndicate. I can only deal with one life-changing crisis at a time.”

Kanami’s reply was cut off by the buzzing of Misaki’s phone. “Is that him again?”

Misaki glanced at the screen. “No - it’s the detention center. Kirihara,” she answered brusquely. As she listened to the superintendent’s voice on the other end, she could feel her jaw muscles tightening and her expression hardening. “I’m on my way,” she said and snapped her phone closed, then pressed it to her temple and squeezed her eyes shut.

“What is it?” Kanami asked with concern. “Is Hourai backing out of the deal?”

“No. He’s dead.”

 

 

* Updated 12.26.16


	4. Chapter 4

When Misaki pulled into the prison parking lot, she spotted a black Honda that hadn’t been there earlier that afternoon. A short man about ten years older than her with trendy black-framed glasses was just getting out of the driver’s seat; he smiled when he saw her. Misaki fought down a surge of annoyance. How the hell had the press heard about this already - or was _Yomiuri Shimbun_ ’s top crime reporter’s presence here just a coincidence?

“Director!” he called, waving as if she could have possibly missed him. “Sorry, I mean Acting Director.”

“I don’t recall signing off on any of your requests for visitation, Toda,” she said coolly as she locked her car and walked past him to the front entrance.

He shrugged, and fell into step beside her. “Well, it never hurts to try. I heard a rumor that you paid our favorite prisoner a visit earlier this afternoon; thought I’d stop by and see if I could learn anything interesting. But you’re here now, so…either my source was a little confused about the time, or something especially interesting is going on.”

“Careful,” Misaki warned. “Contractors are still designated state secrets; anything you publish that doesn’t come directly from my office can earn you five years in prison.”

“Sure, but we aren’t talking about contractors, are we?  Unless you’re saying that Director Hourai…” Toda trailed off, as if expecting her to fill in the blanks for him. Misaki frequently used that same tactic in her own interrogations; no way was she going to fall for it herself. In any case, it seemed that he hadn’t heard the news about Hourai yet. Good. She couldn’t risk that getting out until she knew what had actually happened.

Misaki pushed open the door to the single-story, plain brick building. Saitou, Kouno, and one of the Interpol detectives, a youngish man named Navid, were waiting for her in the lobby, looking grim and not speaking to one another. “Thanks for getting here so fast,” she told them quietly in English for Navid’s sake, ignoring Toda’s presence as he followed her in. “Let’s get going.”

She fished around for her badge in her inside suit jacket pocket, then remembered that she had stuffed it into the outside pocket during her earlier visit. Pulling it out, she addressed the officer sitting behind the bulletproof window. “Acting Director -”

“Kirihara,” the officer finished. “Superintendent Memoto said to let you and your team right through.” He motioned them over to the metal detector and x-ray machine, where another officer led them through a little gate that bypassed the scanners. Toda watched; his curiosity was certainly piqued, but he had no authorization to pass this first security point. Misaki hoped that he wouldn’t wait around for them to return. Regardless of whether he could or could not publish, the less he saw, the better.

“Chief, do you know what happened?” Saitou whispered in Japanese as they waited for their escort, out of sight and earshot of the front lobby.

She shook her head. “Just what I told you on the phone. About an hour after he agreed to sign a deal, his guard opened the cell to give him his dinner and found him dead, apparently by his own hand.”

“Shit,” Kouno muttered.

“ _English, please_ ,” Navid said, pursing his lips in obvious annoyance.

“Chief,” Saitou said again, dropping his voice even lower, “does _he_ have to be here?”

Misaki shot him a sharp look. “Yes,” she replied in English. “This case is too close to us; I want an external party involved.”

For the past month, Interpol had been conducting an investigation into Pandora while Section Four focused on the branch of the Syndicate that had infiltrated the National Police Agency. They were using Section Four’s offices as their headquarters; a handful of times the two teams had worked together as was necessary for their cases. None of her team was particularly happy about the foreign interlopers. Misaki herself didn’t mind, but occasionally she did get the distinct impression that she was being babysat. That, she did not appreciate.

After a long moment in which no one said anything further, Superintendent Memoto came hurrying up the corridor. “Director, thank you for coming so soon. I apologize -”

“Has anyone been inside the cell since you called?” Misaki interrupted; she’d heard enough apologies on the phone. Behind her, Saitou was clumsily translating in English for Navid. They used that language in their joint meetings with Interpol, but none of the prison staff spoke it well enough to make conversing feasible.

The balding man shook his head, sweat beading on his brow despite the coolness of the corridors through which he was leading them. “No. As I said, the guard who found him entered to administer first aid; when he saw that it was too late, he exited and left the cell locked behind him. No one has been in or out since.”

“What about the time between my visit and when he returned to his cell? Did anything unusual happen?”

“We took him straight back to his cell after your interrogation,” Memoto said. “Moriyama is a senior officer, a great stickler for protocol; everything was completely by the book. It’s a very clear-cut case of suicide.”

“Did you oversee the transfer?”

“Not personally, no -”

“Then you can’t know for sure that protocol was followed to the letter.”

“We’ve already reviewed the tapes,” Memoto insisted. “Nothing abnormal appeared at all.”

“Nothing aside from a prisoner somehow managing to take his own life in an isolated, high-security cell.”

They passed through the final checkpoint. Memoto led them past the room where Misaki had met with Hourai and down another corridor, at the end of which were clustered a few guards, talking amongst themselves. They quieted and moved out of the way when one of them, an older man that Misaki recognized from her earlier visit, noticed Memoto and the Section Four team.

“Moriyama.” Memoto gestured the older man over. “Please give Director Kirihara and her team whatever assistance they need.”

The veteran officer bowed gravely, but held up a hand when Misaki stepped forward. “It’s not a pretty sight,” he warned.

“I’m sure I’ve seen worse,” Misaki told him. “But I need to see this for myself.”

The entrance, a heavy steel door with a plate glass window, was propped open. Beyond it was a small vestibule about three feet deep, then a wall of bars. This way a guard could enter a cell and still be physically separated from a potentially dangerous inmate. As a further measure of security, both door and gate had electronic locks as well as manual. Currently, the inner barred gate was slid aside. She took a deep breath before stepping into the vestibule, and immediately regretted it as the distinctive smell of evacuated bowels flooded her senses. 

Misaki didn’t walk through into the cell. She could see the entire scene from there.

The room itself was tiny, only seven by twelve feet. The furniture - a single bunk with a thin mattress; a desk and a stool - were all made from poured concrete, with no part that could be broken off and used as a weapon. The toilet, sink, and water fountain were one unit, all stainless steel with no knobs or faucets that Misaki could see. A single security camera rested in the far corner. On the bed Misaki could see an orange prison jumpsuit, neatly folded, with a pair of laceless cotton slippers sitting tidily on the floor beneath it. The only other personal effects were two books standing on the desk next to a small television that was bolted to the concrete.

A boxy metal shower was built into the corner beside the bed, directly across from the door. In the shower was the body of Hourai Yoshimitsu. He hung from the faucet, his face purple and bloated, formerly-sunken eyes now red and bulging. The shower was so small and the faucet so low that she couldn’t tell exactly how he had asphyxiated. His mouth gaped as if stunned by whatever his sightless eyes were staring at. Water still dripped from his shaggy hair and beard. He was completely naked, save for clear plastic gloves that were fitted tightly over his mechanical hands. It was a grotesque sight, one that Misaki at once wished that she had never seen; the bile rising in her throat had nothing to do with morning sickness.

“Thank you for not disturbing the scene,” she said to Moriyama without averting her eyes from the corpse of her former superior. “Kouno, sweep the room.”

Her subordinate stepped forward, holding a small tablet out in front of him as Navid watched over his shoulder. Misaki noticed that Kouno kept his gaze fixed on the readout as he slowly moved the screen from one side of the room to the other, his lips pursed tightly as if trying not breath in the foul stench. The tablet beeped once.

“What is that?” one of the guards asked, leaning in slightly.

“It’s classified,” Misaki said curtly.

Kouno tapped a button on the display. “Room’s clear.”

“Saitou, you have the camera?”

She remained in the vestibule with arms folded while her team began to document the scene. No one spoke; Kouno looked as if he might throw up at any moment, and Saitou’s expression was stiff and pale. They both had plenty of experience dealing with horrific crime scenes far worse than this, but both had joined Section Four immediately after being accepted to the police. For Kouno that had been three years ago; eight for Saitou. Hourai was the only director either of them had known. They shouldn’t have to be here now, doing this; except there was no one else Misaki could trust. She herself could be doing something useful like reviewing the security footage with Memoto, but she would stay here in this cell for as long as they did.

Navid didn’t seem bothered any more than he would have been at any other crime scene. For him, it _was_ just another crime scene. He worked alongside Saitou and Kouno as Misaki watched, documenting evidence and hunting for anything out of the ordinary. The cell was so small that the other two often bumped into him; Misaki suspected that at least one such collision was not entirely accidental on Kouno’s part. She resisted the urge to sigh and rub her temple, and shifted from watching the three men to gazing around the cell.

Eventually her gaze settled on the folded orange jumpsuit. Something had been niggling at the back of her mind since her first look at the scene, and it finally made its way forward. “Did he usually shower at this time of day?” she asked Moriyama. “Right before dinner?”

“The shower is on an automatic timer,” the guard answered. “It turns on at sixteen thirty-five and off at sixteen forty-two every day. So if he wanted to shower, which prisoner thirty-two generally did, he had no choice over the time.”

“He has had twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for an entire month to kill himself,” she said, still looking at the folded clothes. “And he chose to do it during a five-minute shower, right after agreeing to sign a deal?”

“One giant _eff you_ to his old department?” Kouno suggested as he leafed through one of the two books that had been sitting on the concrete desk.

“With respect, Miss,” Moriyama said, “he has had nothing with which to strangle himself for the past month.”

“Then what did he use, and where did he get it?” A sinking feeling was settling into her chest. This timing was too coincidental to be an actual coincidence. Or was she just being paranoid?

The guard shook his head. “I couldn’t tell for sure without moving the body, which would have been against protocol. It was some sort of blue cord.”

“Ch - Director,” Saitou said in English, for Navid’s benefit. “I’ve finished photographing the body. Should we, uh, take him down now?”

Misaki nodded. “You two,” she pointed to the guard who had asked about the tablet and one next to him. “Cut him down.”

The two guards entered the cell. One took a knife from his belt and cut whatever was around the corpse’s neck. Then they lowered it heavily onto the concrete floor. Kouno held out a plastic evidence bag, and the guard dropped a blue cord into it.

“Let me see that,” Misaki said suddenly. Her subordinate looked questioningly at her, but brought it over. Misaki took the bag and stared, dumbfounded, at the blue Sailor-Moon-patterned lanyard inside. “How the hell,” she breathed.

“What is that,” Navid asked, as if he was torn between disgust and amusement.

Misaki ignored him. Shoving the bag back to Kouno, she dug around in her jacket pocket - both outer pockets, then the inner one. Then her trouser pockets. No lanyard. “Finish up here as quickly as you can; then I want to have a look at the security footage.”

The cell being as small and bare as it was, it didn’t take long for them to bag the rest of the evidence. When they’d finished, Navid performed a careful scan with the prototype portable synchrotron radiation detector that his team had brought to Tokyo with them.

“Anything?” Misaki asked, daring to hope.

He shook his head. “Hard to tell - it seems to be picking up a lot of background noise that I can’t tune out.”

She suppressed a sigh. Well, it was new technology, and they’d done just fine without it for the past several years. “Alright. Saitou, call the coroner’s office; I want Kurosaki himself down here to supervise the pickup. Where is the CCTV footage stored?”

Moriyama led them back to the second checkpoint, where a portly officer sat behind a bank of screens. All of the checkpoints had television monitors showing the nearby corridors and gates, but this one had dozens of displays across multiple monitors; Misaki suspected that the entire facility could be viewed from this station.  


“Officer Suda,” the new officer said as he stood and bowed in greeting. “The superintendent has asked me to show you whatever you need, Director.”

“Thank you,” Misaki said. “First -” But movement in the top right corner of one of the screens caught her eye: a female prisoner with a broad face and dark, curling hair had leapt off her bed and turned to face the camera. One hand rested on the closed circuit television on her desk as she stared, unblinking, as if she could see through the camera and straight at Misaki.

“Who is that?” Misaki asked.

Suda glanced at the monitor. “Prisoner nineteen. She’s been here a year or so.”

“Is she watching us?” Kouno wondered aloud.

Moriyama snorted. “She’s always doing shit like that; don’t let her fool you. The cameras are recording twenty-four-seven; it seems to entertain her, trying to play us by making us think that she can actually tell when someone’s watching.”

Without taking her eyes off the camera, the prisoner reached for a magazine that was lying open on the desk and draped it over the top of her head.

“Contractors,” Suda muttered.

Misaki shook her head. They needed to stay focused. “She’s irrelevant to this case. First I need to see the footage from my visit earlier this afternoon,” she told him, ignoring the confused looks from her subordinates. “I arrived at fourteen-thirty.”

Suda nodded, and sat back down at his station where he clicked through a series of files. After a moment, a feed from the front entrance popped up. Misaki saw herself enter the building and approach the front desk. After another couple of clicks, two additional feeds of the same scene but from different angles popped up. Misaki and the others watched as multiple versions of herself passed through the various checkpoints, changing escorts each time.

Even though fewer than three hours had passed, Misaki felt wholly disconnected from what she was seeing on the screen. The high vantage points of the cameras, the odd angles, showed her a completely different perspective that she had trouble recognizing.

Finally, the screen-Misaki arrived at the last security point and passed her ID and badge - both attached to her lanyard - through the slot in the window. She watched the guard on the other side pull up her personnel file on his monitor and check it against the documents in his hand; then she received it back and replaced it around her neck.

But as she walked through the gate it caught and tore. Even with the new vantage point, Misaki couldn’t quite tell how it had gotten snagged to begin with. She watched herself tuck her badge and the torn lanyard into her left jacket pocket; not so much as a frayed edge could be seen. Navid leaned forward at this point, watching with renewed interest.

Then Memoto met her and escorted her to the interrogation room. The concrete table was in full view of the two cameras, but to Misaki’s frustration, her lap was hidden by the table top.

“Are those the only cameras in the room?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am.”

Her jaw clenched. Nothing she could do about that now.

Hourai had entered the interrogation room; Misaki stared hard at the screen as she watched herself question him, but she saw nothing new, nothing that she hadn’t noticed the first time she was there. Hourai’s hands remained cuffed and secured to the table, and Misaki herself never came close to him. How had her broken lanyard passed from her pocket to around his neck? Without her ever noticing?

“Show me the footage from when prisoner thirty-two was brought out,” she said.

Suda called it up. The camera in the rear of Hourai’s cell showed him lying down on his thin mattress, holding a book. He sat up when the steel door to corridor opened and Moriyama entered the vestibule. They appeared to exchange a few polite words; then Hourai set his book down carefully next to the other on his desk and approached the bars. He turned, arms behind his back, and Moriyama secured a pair of cuffs around his wrists, then his ankles. Once the former director was fully-trussed, Moriyama unlocked the gate and led the hobbled Hourai through the vestibule and out into the corridor. Both gate and door were locked behind them with the double-lock system.

“Keep it here,” Misaki said when she saw that Suda was about to switch to the corridor cameras. “But speed it up.”

The six of them watched as absolutely nothing happened in the empty cell in fast motion. Misaki sighed. It had been worth a shot. They could go through the footage more carefully later.

They then watched in silence as Moriyama led Hourai back into his cell. The former director positioned himself in front of the bars as before, facing away - and into the camera - so that Moriyama could remove his restraints. The quality of the black and white video was good, much better than the ultrasound, Misaki couldn't help but thinking. But even so, Hourai's expression was unreadable, and she couldn’t tell if anything was now hidden somewhere in his jumpsuit. Once finished, the guard left the cell, clearly locking both the gate and the door behind him.

Hourai stood for a long moment in the center of the room, staring at seemingly nothing. Then he picked up his book and returned to his bed beneath the camera, where he sat cross-legged and began to read once again.

Misaki stared until her eyes watered, but there was nobody else in the room with him, no sign of anything unusual or abnormal at all. "Fast forward," she said at last, and Suda obediently sped up the tape. After a minute or two of accelerated reading, Hourai stood up and Suda returned to normal speed.

"Miss, you might want to look away now," Moriyama told her.

"Why?"

"These cells don't allow for any privacy."

“I'm fine," Misaki lied curtly. She absolutely did not want to see her former mentor at his most vulnerable, but what choice did she have? “The man is dead. What matters now is figuring out how.”

Hourai turned his back to the camera as he stepped out of his loafers, placing them carefully below the bunk. Then he stripped out of his orange jumpsuit. Folding it neatly despite having the use of only one hand, he turned just enough to set it onto the mattress behind him. His pair of clear plastic gloves were sitting on the desk next to the book. Keeping his back to the watchers, he took the black bag from off his limp right hand and replaced it with one glove, fastening it tightly with a velcro strap at the elbow. He used his teeth to secure the other glove over his good hand; the silver robotics flashed beneath the cell’s lamplight. His movements were efficient and precise, as if he was thoroughly used to following the exact same routine day after day.

Once his mechanical hands were protected, he stepped into the shower. The metal wall hid his face and upper body from view. The top of his head could be seen, but not the faucet, as low on the wall as it was placed and as tall as he was.

"Is this the only angle?" Misaki demanded in frustration.

Moriyama nodded. "The original plans called for a completely open shower, but the water ended up going everywhere. The cameras had already been installed by the time they added the wall, and couldn't be rewired."

Misaki swore silently to herself. On the screen, a steady trickle of water ran down Hourai’s sagging stomach and pooled at his feet. His left hand came up to splash some of the stream onto his hair, then disappeared behind the shower wall again.

It happened a minute later. Hourai suddenly lurched into full view of the camera, then stumbled back again. Misaki squinted, but she couldn’t tell exactly what was going on. Bent elbows appeared near the top of his head, as if he was trying to reach behind his neck; then one foot slipped on the wet floor and he sagged almost to his knees. Something was clearly holding his body weight up as his legs jerked violently beneath him. Misaki felt her hands clench and unclench compulsively as she watched; behind her, one of her subordinates drew in a sharp breath. It was a full minute before the kicks began to slow to feeble twitches. After another thirty seconds, the twitches stopped altogether as he hung, knees buckled. Misaki stood watching for another five minutes in which no one spoke. The camera showed nothing except Hourai’s body turning slightly as if in a breeze.

“Alright,” she said at last. “Turn it off. I want two copies of the footage from every camera in the facility for the last twenty-four hours in my office as soon as possible.”

“Yes sir. Ma’am.”

“By as soon as possible, I mean today. No delays, even if it means working an extra hour on your shift.” To the other three she said, “Let’s go - we can meet Kurosaki at the morgue for the autopsy.”

As she turned to leave the security booth, she heard someone mutter behind her, “That is one cold hard bitch.”

Her shoulders stiffened and she strode out without looking back. It took every ounce of willpower that she possessed to not throw up until she’d reached the restroom in the main lobby.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Just a reminder that I don’t take anything from Season 2 as canon, including the explanation for the formation of the Syndicate. I have my own take on things :)

It was after eleven by the time Misaki arrived home that night. She was no stranger to late evenings, and the past couple of months had been particularly bad; eleven was practically early at this point. Still, tonight she found that she could hardly muster the energy to turn the key in the lock. 

Her stomach was still sour from spending six hours in the formalin-saturated morgue. Saitou, always queasy around autopsies, hadn’t been able to enter the room at all, so Misaki had sent him back the prison to collect the tapes from Suda. Kouno had lasted until the medical examiner made the first cut in the Y-incision before running, green in the face, from the room. Misaki had stood resolutely until Kurosaki and a second doctor that Navid had called in had finished with their gross observations and sample collections. She felt that she owed it her former superior, criminal though he was, to be there. But she was regretting it now.

Debating whether it was even worth it to undress before falling into bed, despite the scent of formaldehyde that still clung to her clothes, she pushed open the door - and noticed with a start that the lights in her living room were on. The heavenly smell of coffee wafted through the air, and - just for a moment - her heart leapt in joyful expectation.

But as she slipped off her shoes, she saw that the other pair resting tidily in the tray by the door were not the worn sneakers that she been hoping for, but were instead a pair of shiny black loafers.

_Don_ _’t be so pathetic_ , she chided herself as her heart sank once again. Out loud, she called, "Dad?" and tossed her suit jacket and purse onto the little entryway table. A pile of unopened mail slid off onto the floor; she’d pick it up later.

"There you are, Misaki," Kirihara Naoyasu said, looking up from the kitchen sink where he stood in his shirtsleeves, drying a mug. "Just in time - the coffee should be about done." He placed the mug next to the neatly arranged stack of newly-cleaned cups and plates that had been residing in the sink for the past two weeks.

"I was going to wash those in the morning," Misaki said. She'd been telling herself that every night; and every morning she'd woken up too tired and nauseous to bother. "You didn't have to do that."

"I don't mind. I'm sure you've been busier than usual lately, with this surge in contractor activity. My department certainly has been." He poured out one cup of coffee, but Misaki stopped him before he could serve a second.

"None for me, thanks; I'm going to bed early tonight. I'll make some tea instead."

Her father raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't comment. Misaki filled a small saucepan with water and set it on the stove to boil. She pulled out a paring knife and rooted around in the fridge until she found a wrinkled stump of ginger. As she began slicing off the peel, she asked, "What are you doing here, Dad?" He had her spare key for emergencies, but had never used it before. He'd never even dropped by to visit without calling first.

"I wanted to talk with you, and since you've been ducking my calls, this seemed like the best way."

"I haven't been ducking your calls," Misaki lied. "I just don't have any time for a conversation in which you refuse to give me an explanation for your criminal activities."

Naoyasu shook his head. "And I've told you already - or rather, I’ve told your voicemail - I haven't done anything criminal. I was overseas during the Tokyo Explosion by coincidence; a friend called to warn me about EPR's activities at the Gate after they’d already begun their attack. Where did you learn to slice vegetables like that?"

"What?" Misaki looked down at her hands. "Oh. A cooking show."

She'd learned mostly by watching Hei. He could hold a convoluted root in one hand and with the other peel the whole thing with easy, continuous strokes of a knife.

Kanami had been right about ginger root tea being good for morning sickness, and Misaki made a cup almost every night now, when the nausea was at its worst; though she was nowhere near as adept at peeling the ginger as Hei. Even so, the act was more calming than she would have supposed, and while she sliced, she could imagine Hei's arms around her, his hands cupping hers as they had done when he'd first shown her how. The purpose of that lesson had been mostly to have an excuse to be close to him, rather than learn. Not that either of them had ever needed much excuse for that.

She frowned, and started slicing the root into half-inch discs to add to the boiling water. "Please don't change the subj - ow!”

“Misaki, what did you do? Let me see.”

Her father reached for her hand, but she held it back. “The knife slipped, that’s all. Can you get me a paper towel?” It wasn’t a bad cut; she squeezed the towel around her finger and dropped the remaining chunk of ginger into the pot. “So, you were telling me about how you first got involved with the Syndicate?”

“Misaki, you’ve said yourself that you have no evidence implicating me in anything. Director - former Director Hourai,” he amended, catching her look, “only gave my name along with a long list of others during his initial deposition, very few of whom have been definitively linked to the Syndicate. There’s no evidence at all; I don’t know what it is you want from me.”

The cut on her finger had stopped bleeding; Misaki gave it one last squeeze, then tossed the towel into the trash. She crossed her arms and stared down into the boiling ginger. “I want you to be honest with me. If not out of respect, then at least self-interest: the Syndicate kept detailed records of all its members, stored on a central server. We haven’t found it yet, but we’re close. If your name is in there - Dad, I _need_ to know. I don’t want to have to arrest you. Make an official statement; you say you haven’t done anything wrong, and I believe you - I do. We just need to get everything out in the open so that it doesn’t come back and bite me in the ass later.”

“What do you mean, bite _you_ in the ass - is this about protecting your new position? This new crusade you’re on?”

“What crusade?”

Naoyasu took a sip of his coffee and answered evenly, “Integrating contractors into society, getting the public to accept them. It’s ridiculous. I know things looked bad after EPR’s assault on the Gate, but we could have salvaged the situation. We could have -”

“That sounds like a Syndicate member talking.”

“It’s just common sense. After all you’ve seen, do you honestly believe that contractors can possibly live alongside humans?”

The smell of ginger had finally overpowered the coffee aroma; Misaki carefully poured the steaming liquid from the saucepan into a clean mug. “They have been, for the past ten years. I’ve worked closely with a couple, and honestly, they’re no different from any of the rest of us. That’s what I’m trying to get the world to understand.”

“Who have you worked with - that MI-6 agent? The one who murdered his handler in cold blood?”

“The one who reacted emotionally when he learned that his superior had been planning to have him eradicated like vermin, you mean? Yes, that MI-6 agent.” Leaving the dirty pot in the sink, Misaki took her mug into the living room and settled onto the sofa. After a moment, her father followed and sat down next to her.

“You feel quite strongly about this, don’t you.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m not going to convince you to change your mind.”

“No. Now can we get back to the original subject?”

Naoyasu sighed, cupping his steaming mug in his hands. “Misaki, I was just trying to protect you.”

“I can take care of myself; you’re not protecting me by keeping me in the dark.” The ginger tea was slow to take effect tonight; maybe she hadn’t boiled it long enough.

“I know you can. But I don’t mean now - I mean ten years ago. After the Gate first appeared, and we began to see how people were changing because of it.”

Misaki glanced over at her father in surprise; he wasn’t looking at her though, but rather gazing into his coffee.

“The utility of contractors in military and espionage operations was seen early on,” he continued. “It made sense: the public had to be protected from such dangerous, cold-hearted people, so they were captured and hidden away in secret military bases. Each nation snapped up as many contractors as they could find on their own soil. My division was mostly occupied with keeping the major crime syndicates ignorant of contractors’ potential for their organizations. Don’t worry, I’m fully aware of the irony.”

She ghosted a smile.

“It was maybe a year later…no, less than that. Anyway, no one was talking about eradicating contractors yet, at least not that I ever heard, until Hourai’s accident.”

“When he lost his hands in the contractor attack that killed his wife?”

“Ah; is that what I told you?”

Her brow furrowed. “Was that not what happened? You lied -”

Naoyasu held up hand. “It’s the truth - just not all of it. The contractor was his wife. She attacked him; he managed to kill her in self-defense, but in the process, his hands were severed.”

“His wife?” Misaki said quietly. It was almost enough to engender a spark of pity for the man. Almost.

Her father nodded. “After that, Hourai became vehemently outspoken against contractors; he said that they didn’t belong in a civilized society, that they were less than human. Parasites. Most of the directors and section chiefs agreed with him. I’d seen enough by then to know that he was right.”

“Dad, that’s not -”

“Just look at Hourai’s own history, Misaki. His own wife tried to murder him for no other reason than she thought it was the rational thing to do. Contractors cannot coexist peacefully with humans; it just isn’t possible.”

Misaki clenched her jaw in frustration. It would be pointless to argue. Time, she reminded herself. Given enough time, even people like her father who had been there in the early days of contractors would see that things weren’t so black and white. “Are you saying that Hourai started the Syndicate himself?”

“Maybe,” Naoyasu said. “He was certainly one of the top men in the organization, from the very beginning. After his hands were replaced, he and Director Ito attended the first Interpol summit on the international procedures to be implemented in cases concerning contractors and Gate-related crime. When he returned, he was much quieter about his opinions. I think that that was probably when the organization began to form.”

Misaki had studied that and the subsequent summits in her police coursework, once she had received official clearance to access contractor-related files. She supposed it made sense for Hourai, as Director of Foreign Affairs, to go. It would have also given him prime opportunity to meet other like-minded police and intelligence directors…

“Director Ito,” she said. “He’s retired now; is he still in the city?”

“I think so; but Misaki, you are not going to go bothering an old retired gentleman!”

“I will if I have reason to suspect him to be involved in the Syndicate,” Misaki said, before adding, “which I don’t. Right now, anyway. So you shared Hourai’s opinions on contractors - when, exactly, did you join them?”

Naoyasu shook his head. “I was never a part of it, not really. I didn’t know anything about the true purpose of Heaven’s War, or the Saturn Ring Project.” He sighed. “I simply…looked the other way when a Syndicate representative needed something from my division, or lost the paperwork when one of their operatives was arrested. In return, as a courtesy, I was notified of all operatives assigned to Tokyo.”

“What do you mean that you were notified of operatives? Were you just given their Messier codes, or…”

“I received a short dossier on each one, which was returned upon their transfer out of the city. Or death, as the case may be.”

She hesitated, then asked, “Did you have a file on BK-201?”

“Of course. And before you ask, no, I no longer have it. I - I burned anything potentially incriminating as soon as I returned to the country.”

“But you read it?”

“Yes. It wasn’t complete, of course, just the pertinent details. Those details, though…Misaki, I understand what you’re doing, spreading that story around about how BK-201 saved both mankind and contractors; it makes a great angle for the general public. But no one who’s read that file will believe your story. BK-201 is a monster, through and through. He wasn’t the only one, certainly, but he was by far one of the worst.”

“These monsters were employed by the same people you were aiding and abetting,” Misaki said coldly. “The same people who gave you those files, so that you would let them go about their business without fear of arrest. How could you? You knew it was an illegal organization!”

“I knew that they were working to understand the Gates and ultimately protect the world from the threat of contractors; that was worth any sacrifice of my professional ethics.”

“I don’t believe this!” Misaki exploded, clutching her mug tightly to keep from throwing it across the room. “You taught me to believe in the law, to uphold it no matter what - and all this time - “

“I had _you_ to think about! Misaki, you’re my daughter, the only family I have - I would do anything to keep you safe.”

“Don’t you dare use me as an excuse! Did you ever stop and think that maybe _I_ wouldn’t want that? That I’d rather you stood up for your principles, like you’ve always taught me to do?”

He shook his head. “When you have a child of your own - if you ever do - you’ll understand.”

She opened her mouth to protest that of course that wouldn’t change a thing…and then remembered how much she’d already compromised, for Hei. Not because he’d asked her to; he’d never asked. She’d gone against her own code, broken the law multiple times, simply because of her feelings for him. She’d justified it to herself at the time, of course, but that didn’t change the facts. If anyone in this room was a hypocrite, it was her.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said instead, slouching back against the cushions. “Did they ever pay you?”

Naoyasu blinked. “What?”

“The Syndicate - did they ever pay you for services rendered.”

“No.”

Misaki rubbed her temple wearily. “That’s good. It’ll help your case. We can go over the details of all your dealings with them later; right now I need you to tell me if you know anything about a server belonging to the Syndicate. One that can store massive amounts of contractor and Astronomics data.”

Her father shook his head. “I still haven’t agreed to making any kind of official statement; there is no case. But no, I haven’t heard of anything like that. I would think that such a thing would be located inside Pandora; it was always a front for the Syndicate.”

“It’s not in Pandora, or anywhere near the Gate. Some reason having to do with electromagnetic disruptions potentially corrupting the long-term storage of the data.”

“Ah. Well, if anyone knows, it would be Hourai. Have you been successful in getting him to talk yet?”

Defeat settled in Misaki’s stomach. She took a long sip of tea, but it had gone cold. “When I left the secure facility this afternoon, he was going to meet with his lawyer to sign a deal.”

Naoyasu’s face lit up. “Misaki, that’s wonderful! I knew you’d…” He trailed off when he saw her expression. “You said, _was_ going to? What happened?”

“He was found dead barely an hour later.”

The look of shock that crossed her father’s face was genuine, she was relieved to see. “How?”

“It looks like suicide.”

“But you don’t think it is.”

“No.” She hesitated. An outside opinion would be valuable; especially from someone with a solid understanding of contractors and the Syndicate. If Hei was there - but he wasn’t. And for all that she still trusted her father, he was hardly a disinterested party. “I’m sorry; I can’t discuss the details at this point in the investigation.”

“At this point,” Naoyasu repeated. “You’re sounding more and more like a public relations automaton every day. Well, that’s the course you’ve set for yourself, with this pro-contractor campaign.” He sighed. “What can I do to help?”

“What I’ve been asking you to do all along - come clean about your involvement.”

“Someone out there is killing Syndicate members to keep them from talking, and you want me to publicly admit an association?”

“Dad, if I thought for even a minute that making a statement would put you at risk, I wouldn’t ask. We’ve arrested several low-level members so far, and none have received a single threat. Hourai was a special case; if you’re as uninvolved as you say, you’ll be fine. I’ll give you a protective detail if you want - experienced officers.” Whether he asked or not, she’d provide an undercover watch; there was no way in hell she’d let anything happen to her father.

“Absolutely not - I can’t imagine a worse embarrassment! And what about my career? It will be over, and all the hard work I’ve done in the past thirty years will have been for nothing.”

“You should have thought about that before you decided to turn a blind eye to the Syndicate’s activity.”

“Misaki, I don’t appreciate your tone. I’m your father, as well as your superior in the police, and -”

“And you _broke the law_! Dad, it won’t be that bad. We’ll write up a deal and you’ll get off with a light sentence. Maybe we’ll even be able to swing house arrest instead of prison.” She drew in a shaky breath, then added quietly, “If you’re lucky, you’ll be out before your grandchild is born.”

“I thought you said a _light_ sentence, not life,” he snorted.

She shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. “October isn’t too far off; six months is hardly life.”

“That’s -” he began, then trailed off when Misaki didn’t meet his eyes. “You’re not serious,” he said flatly.

In answer, Misaki rose from the sofa and went over to her purse. She rifled in it until she found the ultrasound photo, and brought it back to her father, handing it over without comment.

He took it gingerly and stared wide-eyed at the grainy turtle-shaped blotch in the center. “I…I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” he said at last, still not taking his eyes off the photo.

“It wasn’t anything serious,” Misaki said, settling into the corner of the sofa with her cold tea and her knees tucked up beneath her.

“Well it’s certainly serious now! October, you said? You mean you're actually going through with this?"

"Yes."

"Why on earth would you? I'm sure it's not too hard to get a doctor to sign off on -"

"Dad, I just told you - I'm keeping it. I've spent a long time thinking, and I've decided."

"Misaki, be reasonable! You still have your whole career ahead of you; and if you drop out of this push to get contractors integrated into society, I guarantee you that no one else will pick it up. Do you really want all your hard work to go to waste?”

"Who said anything about giving up my career? Plenty of men have families and somehow still manage to work,” she retorted.

"You're going to have a stay-at-home husband, then?" The disapproval was clear in his voice. "Who is this man, if I may ask? I hope I'm at least invited to the wedding; it seems I’m not allowed to be privy to the changes in my own daughter’s life."

Misaki closed her eyes, struggling against the surge of guilt. "There isn't going to be a wedding."

"He isn't stepping up to his responsibility? What kind of a man -"

"He doesn't know!” she protested. “Look, family is one of the most important things to him; I'm sure if he knew, he wouldn't hesitate to do whatever was necessary to take care of his child."

"So when are you going to tell him? Are you waiting until it's too late to change your mind?"

She'd wondered more than once whether or not Hei would try and talk her out of it; and whether or not she would listen. But it didn't matter. The reality was that, circumstances being what they were, the decision was entirely hers. And she'd made it. "No. He - it's complicated."

"Complicated how?"

She sighed. "Like I said, it wasn't a serious relationship. His...business is based abroad, and he was only in Tokyo for a few months. We had a big argument, and then he had to leave the country suddenly for work. I didn't know at the time that I was already...anyway, he doesn't know. And I don't know if I'll see him again to tell him."

"Surely you have his phone number or address."

"No."

"Well, I have connections with Interpol - if you give me his name, I'm sure I can find out -"

"Dad, no. I made my decision knowing full well that I'll probably have to do this alone. I mean, I do want to tell him; at the very least he has a right to know, and I'm sure that he would do whatever he can to help. But it's not going to be easy to find him." Especially as his life currently depended on _not_ being found; she wasn't going to do anything to bring attention to his whereabouts. Even asking Kanami for updates on his star was probably pushing too much. "My energy will be better spent focusing on my work."

Her father shook his head. "I thought I raised you better than this."

"Better than _what_ , exactly?" she said sharply, shame heating her cheeks.

"Better than getting yourself into such a situation! Misaki, I don't understand you. How could you be so careless? I don't think you understand how this is going to affect the rest of your life. It would be hard enough to have a career as a mother, but as a single mother? You can't even imagine! What are you going to do with the baby while you're at work? How are you going to get up in the middle of the night for feedings, and still make it to your early morning meetings?"

"I'll figure it out,” she said; though she hadn’t the first clue where to start. His arguments were entirely valid, and the reality of the looming future threatened to overwhelm her on a daily basis.

Naoyasu sighed heavily. "After your mother died, and we were on our own...it wasn't easy. You were at least old enough to take care of yourself, but it still wasn't easy. I questioned every day whether I was capable of raising you alone."

"I thought you did a good job," Misaki said quietly. It made her feel a bit better to know that her father, who had always appeared to have life perfectly in control, had had moments of doubt as well. But more than anything, she hated disappointing him. And she’d just disappointed him in the worst possible way.

He gazed at the photo in his hands. "I never actually expected to be a grandfather. When you were dating that law student, Nakahara, for a while I thought, maybe. But then your career took off...I am proud of you, you know. Uncovering the Syndicate and going after them all on your own.”

“I wasn’t completely alone.”

“I know. You have a great team at your back, that you’ve built and inspired yourself. Even chiefs twice your age have trouble managing that. I’ve always admired your loyalty to the people beneath you.”

She allowed herself a tiny smile at the praise, though she hardly deserved it.

“You must really love this man, to put yourself through all of this," her father said, his face weary.

"I guess I do."

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Misaki replied automatically, then she sighed. "Aside from the constant exhaustion and feeling like I'm perpetually on the edge of the flu, I feel fine."

"Just like your mother."

"What?"

Naoyasu smiled sadly. "Yasuko was ill throughout her entire pregnancy. She spent the last two months on bed rest, she was so weak. But I'm sure you'll do better."

"God I hope so. The doctor says the nausea should ease up soon, anyway."

They sat in silence for a long time, both lost in their own thoughts. Misaki had never asked her mother anything about what it had been like to have a crush, to fall in love, to have a baby - any of the things that little girls went to their mothers for. She’d only been nine when Yasuko had fallen ill, ten when she’d died. She could remember sitting on the edge of the hospital bed on one of the days when her mother had been well enough to sit up, Yasuko brushing Misaki’s long hair; she’d done that every night, at home. Misaki had just started a new year at school and her mother had asked her if there were any cute boys in the class. Misaki could remember making a face and swearing that all boys were stupid; her mother had laughed. One of the last times that Misaki had heard her laugh.

She wished now that she’d asked more questions about her mom’s life growing up, or what to expect in the future. But at the time, she’d been pretending so hard that everything would be okay, that her mother would get better the next day. And if not that day, then the next. Her own grown-up, potential life had been the furthest thing from her mind. What would Yasuko think of her daughter’s situation now? Would she be ashamed too?

Naoyasu’s voice broke the silence at last. “Misaki, are you alright? Truly?”

"Yeah, I’m fine. I just…I miss Mom.” She couldn't keep the edge of tears from her voice. Damn hormones.

Her father reached over and squeezed her hand. "Me too, honey. Me too."


	6. Chapter 6

**April 12, 2008**

Misaki hardly slept at all that night, despite her exhaustion. She didn't know whether it was due to the visions of Hourai's corpse that invaded her dreams, or the stiff and awkward goodbye that her father had left her with. It was with dragging feet and an almost painful craving for coffee that she arrived at headquarters the next morning.

Her office was now up on the twelfth floor. It was only a temporary office, as she was only Acting Director; she’d wanted to stay downstairs with the rest of her team, but Superintendent Kan had insisted that she take the room that had been Hourai’s for the past ten years, as she now had three other sections to supervise in addition to her own.

In her former role, Misaki had always spent the first half hour of every morning debriefing her team and getting up to speed on their various open cases and assignments. Now, however, she resisted the urge to swing by the fifth floor on her way upstairs. Aside from their being seven floors down from her own, her showing up in the office so early could be taken as a sign that she didn’t trust them. They were perfectly capable of handling the legwork themselves; they didn't need her watching over their shoulders.

Instead, she hit the number twelve on the elevator panel and headed straight to her own office. Currently it looked exactly the same as it had when Hourai had occupied it: sparse, impersonal, and utilitarian. There was no point in taking the time to personalize a place where she would be spending only another month or two, if she was lucky. The only change was that now Hourai’s gray trenchcoat was missing from the coat rack; Misaki hung her blue rain coat in its place.

She dumped her purse under her desk and sat wearily behind the computer. There was a long list of emails waiting in her inbox; she dealt with the most urgent issues and questions from the other section chiefs first, leaving the press requests and PR notes to read over later - Toda, the reporter from _Yomiuri Shimbun_ , had sent her five messages in the past eight hours, she noted with annoyance. Well, he could wait until she sent out an official statement like everyone else. She’d decided not to make the announcement of Hourai’s death until they had a more solid lead to go on, but she couldn’t only hold off for so long.

Moki was still emailing her on a daily basis, as if he thought that not checking in frequently would lead her to arrest him - as she’d arrested his superior, the former chief of Section One. She supposed that it was better he be too open rather than not, but still, this was getting excessive. She’d chosen him for the position because she’d worked with him on several cases previously and thought that he could handle the responsibility. She would have to take him aside after their next Foreign Affairs status meeting for a private word.

Jouda of Section Two had sent her a quick note to advise her on an unusual increase in intelligence chatter around Shanghai and Hong Kong. Misaki read it over with interest. She hit the reply button, but found herself picking up the phone instead of typing.

“Jouda,” the section chief answered on the second ring.

“What’s going on in Shanghai?” she asked without preamble.

“Good morning to you too, Director,” he grumbled, but he didn’t waste time getting to the point. Misaki liked that about him, though little else. “Bounty hunters, if you can believe it. The Chinese government has been keeping an eye on rumors that some serious players had entered the country and converged on Shanghai.”

“Contractors?”

“Some contractors; some the old-fashioned kind of hitmen. Astronomics data confirmed the contractors - a couple didn’t make it out alive.”

Misaki had seen that data too. “Any idea what they’re after?”

She could almost hear Jouda shrugging. “Nothing concrete. But we’re starting to hear something similar out of Hong Kong now, and there’s been a sudden…rearrangement of traffic in and out of the island in the past two days.”

“Rearrangement? What do you mean?”

“I mean flight and train timetables being adjusted, that sort of thing. It looks like someone is trying to facilitate entry to the city.”

“Someone in the Chinese ministry, it sounds like,” Misaki mused. “You said you weren’t sure who these hitmen are after; but if you had to put money on it, what would be your bet?”

“I don’t bet,” he said curtly. “But my team reviewed the star analysis coming out of southern China this week. There’s a lot of activity in general, and most of it seems to be centered around your old friend BK-201. And it’s pretty clear that he’s headed in the direction of Hong Kong.”

_Damn_. “It’s clear from the star analysis,” she repeated. “But China doesn’t have anywhere near as sophisticated an Astronomics system as we do.”

“Not to our knowledge, no,” Jouda clarified.

Misaki continued, “And those analyses are classified. So how is the government mobilizing before he’s even arrived?”

“It sounds like there’s still a leak in Astronomics, and a Syndicate member in the Chinese Ministry of Transport. The investigation of which is your department. Sorry, I mean, Section Four’s responsibility.”

“And anti-Chinese espionage is your responsibility,” Misaki said, trying her best to keep her tone even. “Thank you for the update, Chief Jouda. Please keep me informed on this issue.” She hung up the phone and rubbed her temple in frustration. She never liked to be that short with anyone below her, but Jouda had not been happy about her promotion, temporary though it was. He was older than her, senior to her, and - important in his mind - male, all of which combined to give him an air of superiority in all of their interactions. He’d always been cold and almost snide with her during their Foreign Affairs update meetings under Hourai; she’d dealt with it by ignoring it, and Hourai had dealt with it by responding coldly and curtly right back whenever Jouda had tried to discredit Misaki. She hated to emulate any aspect of Hourai’s methods, but she couldn’t deny that it was effective in this case. So far, anyway.

Her mind returned to the issue at hand. An influx of contractors and hitmen into Hong Kong, ahead of Hei. She wished that she could get a message to him somehow, to warn him. But even if she knew of a way, there was always the chance of it being intercepted. Every time she thought that they had plugged the leak for good, three more cropped up. What she needed was that server, and the list of Syndicate members that it supposedly contained. But with Hourai dead, and no other leads…she sighed to herself. Maybe when they found his murderer, they could track back to the person who had hired him or her. It _couldn_ _’t_ be a coincidence that Hourai had died right after agreeing to talk.

She glanced at the clock; just after nine. Was that too early to head down and check in with her team? Matsumoto would probably have called her if he and Navid had found something interesting on the surveillance tapes, but that didn’t mean that they hadn’t picked up some little detail that they could discuss.

Out of habit she took a quick look at her calendar to make sure she was free to stop by the fifth floor early - and sighed in annoyance when she spotted the reminder that she had left for herself. She’d been awfully forgetful lately, and it was driving her crazy; post-it notes and scrawls on scraps of paper littered her computer monitor and floated around in her purse. This was one reminder that she wished she hadn’t thought to write down: _Call Kaede re: Hourai._

That note had been intended to remind her to fill him in on how her interview with the former director went. She hadn’t told him about the death yet. Wishing that she was back down on the fifth floor and absolved from this responsibility, she picked up her phone and dialed his mobile number.

Kaede picked up on the first ring, despite it being nearly one-thirty in the morning in Geneva. “Misaki, finally!” he exclaimed. “I was expecting you to call this morning. Any news? I have a breakfast meeting with the deputy to the General-Commissioner tomorrow; I’d like to be able to give him an update on the progress of the investigation.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a policy summit,” Misaki stalled. “The Syndicate has nothing to do with drafting contractor regulation guidelines.” Representatives from nearly all the United Nations members were attending, along with field experts from their own countries. The Japanese Minister of Foreign Affairs himself had asked Misaki to go; she still wasn’t sure whether it was because he thought she would do a good job, or if he just wanted to get her out of the spotlight after her first controversial press conference. Regardless, she had declined - she couldn’t abandon her team at the very beginning of their crackdown on the Syndicate. So she’d recommended Kaede instead, and he’d jumped at the chance to publicly represent the nation and make himself known in the international community. Though right now, she was almost wishing that _she_ was in Geneva, rather than dealing with this nightmare of a case.

“Of course,” Kaede said dismissively. “But he was asking me the other day how our two teams were getting along.”

“Fine. I mean, we’re mostly working on two separate cases; they do their work, and we do ours.” She wished that she could leave it at that. However, he was still acting as temporary replacement to his former superior, Tsukuda Jiro, in Intelligence. She had to let him know what had happened. She sighed. “We’re working closely together on the Hourai case now, though.”

“Oh? Did he actually give you something good then?”

Misaki closed her eyes at the optimism in Kaede’s voice. “No,” she said. Then taking a deep breath, she explained what had happened the day before.

“Shit,” Kaede swore, then added a few more curses for good measure. “How the hell could you let this happen? Hourai’s intel was key to finally taking out the last of the Syndicate! If -”

“What do you mean, how could _I_?” Misaki snapped. “I did absolutely everything in my power to get that intel, and I almost had it! I have no idea how a contractor was able to get to him, but one did. What we need to focus on now is how to find that server without Hourai.”

Kaede heaved a sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re sure it was a contractor, and not suicide?”

“I’m sure.”

“Well, you would know best, I suppose. Is there anything you need from Interpol? I won’t mention this setback to the deputy, but I can put in any request you have that you can’t get from the team that’s there.”

“We’re fine,” Misaki said wearily, leaning back in her chair.

“So no leads on the server, then?”

She ignored the sardonic tone. “No. I’ll update you as soon as we have anything solid to go on; I just thought you ought to know.”

He sighed again. “Well, thanks, I guess. Hey - I’m sorry for snapping at you. Good luck with the investigation.”

“Thanks.” Misaki hung up the phone and stared at the clock on the opposite wall, watching as the minute hand slowly ticked around its face. Fifteen minutes had gone by before she’d even realized that she’d zoned out. She took off her glasses and rubbed her face briskly to get some blood flowing again, then sighed at the sight of the foundation that had rubbed off onto her fingers. Time to stop dwelling on things that she couldn’t change, and get back to work.

~~~~o~~~~

Hourai’s office hadn’t changed in the past month; but Section Four’s offices on the fifth floor had. One set of cubicles had been broken apart from the others and set up on the other side of the room for use by the Interpol team. Despite there being only three members, they had brought quite a lot of equipment and had commandeered over half the space. Misaki had let them have it, despite quiet grumblings from her team. As she strode through the double doors from the elevator lobby, she had the distinct impression that she was walking though the demilitarized zone between two warring countries.

She nodded a good morning to Navid and Francesca, a red-haired European woman who was one of Interpol’s star analysts, and crossed to Section Four’s side of the room. “Anything new on the hotline?” she asked Ootsuka.

Ootsuka looked up from her computer, seemingly unsurprised by Misaki’s early appearance. “Saitou and Kouno are out on a tip right now; other than that, it's just been the usual false alarms and over-worried citizens.”

“A tip?” Misaki asked, perking up for the first time that morning. “What about?”

“A pharmacy five kilometers from the prison was broken into the night before the Director - Hourai's death,” Ootsuka said, the name of her former superior without his title clearly uncomfortable to her. “The alarms went off, but owner didn't see anything suspicious on his security camera.”

“Hm, that doesn’t exactly say ‘contractor’ to me. Still, could be promising,” Misaki mused. “We haven't had much luck with the hotline otherwise; it would be nice to have a payoff at last.”

“It would be nice,” Matsumoto said without looking up from his own computer. “That hotline is more trouble than it’s worth.”

“That hotline exists so that the public can feel safe,” Misaki reminded him. “And so that _we_ don’t have to spend all day fielding phone calls from paranoid citizens. Even if we never get any useful information, its existence is well worth it for that reason alone.” Captain Gmerek of the Interpol team had been the one to recommend it in the first place; Misaki was pretty sure that that was the only reason why her team was pushing back on the idea. A dedicated team - rookies, mostly - manned it twenty-four hours a day and reported the relevant tips to Section Four.

“What about you, Matsumoto,” she continued. He had been ensconced at his computer since the previous evening when Saitou had brought the tapes over. His rumpled shirt and unshaved face told her that he had been there probably all night. “Have you found anything interesting?”

“Nothing,” he said grimly. “Not even a shadow. How sure are we that it wasn't suicide?”

“Don't give up,” she told him, refusing to accept the possibility that she might be wrong. “This was a contractor, I know it. We just have to find the proof.”

“Right, Ch - Director. I’ll keep - hang on.” He leaned forward, squinting at the computer screen.

“What is it?” Misaki asked at once, leaning over his shoulder. It was footage from some time after Hourai’s death; she could see him still hanging in the shower. The sight was enough to send a wave of nausea through her stomach, but she forced herself to look anyway. Nothing unusual stood out.

Matsumoto froze the frame, then pointed at a small smudge just in front of the shower. “That. I swear it wasn’t there a second ago. Hang on.” He backed the tape up a couple of seconds. “There - look.”

“That’s hardly clear,” Misaki said, but hope had already flitted into her heart. “Play it frame by frame.” Ootsuka leaned over too, and the three of them watched as two barely perceptible smudges appeared in front of the shower. When Matsumoto skipped ahead to when the guard opened the cell, they were gone.

Ootsuka frowned. “I didn’t see anything.”

“They almost look like footprints,” Matsumoto said carefully.

“Almost,” Misaki agreed. “Well, it’s not much, but it’s something. Keep combing through the tapes, and talk with Navid - maybe he’s noticed it too. Have a report ready before our meeting at noon.”

“Right, Director.”

Just then, the sound of arguing voices reached them from the elevator lobby. “I’m telling you, it was a false alarm. Nothing was stolen.”

“Nothing that he wanted to admit to having possessed. We should have searched that cabinet.”

“He was the victim, Kouno, not the suspect. We couldn’t search the cabinet.”

“Come on, a pharmacy with a mysterious break-in, and a locked cabinet?”

“All pharmacies have locked cabinets. And there was no sign of a - oh, Ch- Director, you’re here,” Saitou said in surprise as he and Kouno entered the office.

“No luck on that tip, then?” she asked, disappointed.

Saitou shook his head. “Looks like a false alarm.”

She glanced at Kouno, but he just shrugged. “Yeah,” he said grudgingly. “Total waste of time.”

“Oh well,” Misaki said, “thanks for checking it out.” She checked her watch. “I have to run back upstairs; I’ll see you at the meeting.”

~~~~o~~~~ 

Misaki had gotten into the habit of making a cup of tea before every joint meeting with the Interpol team. She was perpetually cold these days, and the hot paper cup felt good between her hands.

It also gave her an excuse to be nearly late. By the time she arrived, everyone else was already seated and she didn't have to fight with Captain Gmerek for preeminence at the head of the table. At their first meeting, she had taken her customary seat on the right hand side of the head, which they had traditionally left empty; Gmerek had taken this to mean that she wanted him to take charge, and he had done so. As a fifteen-year veteran of Interpol, Boris Gmerek was used to heading up task forces. Even though it galled slightly to play second fiddle in her own conference room, Misaki had always known when it was best to just shut up and listen. Gmerek technically didn’t have any authority over her, and she was free to direct her own team however she saw fit, regardless of what he said.

The four members of her team were arranged along one side, all wearing identical blank expressions. Along the other side were the other two members of the Interpol team, Navid and Francesca.

 “Alright folks, what do we have?” Gmerek asked as Misaki took her seat at the foot of the table. Despite his lack of official authority, she felt less subordinate to him when she sat there.

Navid spoke up first. “Forensics on the Acting Director’s lanyard came back with nothing,” he said. “The composition of material coupled with the water from the shower made it impossible to get any fingerprints. As far as the site goes, there was no sign of forced entry, and no sign of contractor activity.”

“So exactly what we already found,” Kouno said under his breath. Misaki shot him a look.

“Both medical examiners have agreed to sign off on ‘self-inflicted strangulation’ as cause of death,”  Navid continued as if he hadn't heard. Maybe he hadn't. “That the lanyard was used as the method of strangulation is in no doubt. The next question that needs to be answered is: how exactly did it pass from Acting Director Kirihara's pocket into Hourai's possession without the cameras picking it up, and without Kirihara apparently noticing?”

The Interpol team all turned to look at her. She'd already explained that she hadn't felt anything when her lanyard had disappeared from her pocket, and they'd all seen the tapes. But there was still a skeptical note in Navid's voice.

“Had to have been a contractor,” Saitou said. “Some kind of telekinesis ability, maybe.”

“Perhaps,” Gmerek agreed slowly, steepling his fingers. “But he would have had to have been in the room, or at least had line of sight on the Director. And unless the tape was somehow doctored, it appeared that the Director's hands stayed above the table during the entire conversation.”

Of course they did, Misaki thought. Hourai had been cuffed - then she saw the daggers that Saitou was shooting in Gmerek's direction, and realized that he was referring to her. He couldn't possibly suspect _her_? But then again, why not? It would make sense, she supposed, to go after Hourai if she herself was a member of the Syndicate. Whether Hourai was guilty or not didn't matter; he made a perfect scapegoat. And dead, he couldn’t contradict any claims that she cared to make.

Well, there was nothing she could do about that. The evidence was the evidence.

“What about the tox report?” she asked.

Saitou started to speak, but Navid cut him off. “According to our medical examiner, tox came back clean; your guy thought he could see trace amounts of a muscle relaxant, but the levels were too low for any degree of confidence.”

“Kurosaki has nearly a decade of experience working in contractor forensics,” Matsumoto put in mildly. “He knows how to look for things that most others would miss.”

“He does,” Misaki agreed before any of the Interpol team could speak up. “But trace amounts aren't anything to go by. Was there any kind of needle stick on the body?”

“None that either doctor could find,” Navid said.

“Then we should keep it in mind, but move on.” Her team cast her slightly betrayed looks, but she continued, “What about the star analysis?”

She looked at Ootsuka, but it was Francesca who spoke. “Three stars showed activity during the two-hour time frame of Kirihara's visit and Hourai's death, in that vicinity. CL-982, HG-139, and RS-334. None of them look promising, however.”

“Why not?” Gmerek asked before Misaki could.

“CL-982 displayed one short burst at fourteen fifty-five, which was during the interrogation, but that's all. HG-139 was continuously active throughout that time, extending both prior to and beyond Hourai's death. The levels were overall rather low and unvaried. RS-334's activity pattern was intermittent over the course of the two hours.”

“Could be a contender then?” Matsumoto suggested.

But Francesca shook her head, copper curls bouncing. “Each segment did overlap with our time points of interest, but during my research I noticed that this star has shown a very similar pattern for the past year; nothing about this particular day stood out in any way. It's therefore unlikely that RS-334 was involved.”

“Do we know anything about any of these three stars?” Gmerek asked.

Francesca began to explain that no, they had no data either from the Interpol database or Section Four's own records, when Misaki noticed that Ootsuka was pressing her lips together tightly.

“Ootsuka, do you have anything to add?” Misaki interrupted, trying to injecting an encouraging note into her voice.

The Astronomics liaison turned pink at suddenly being the center of attention. “Well, Ms. Michaels is right about RS-334,” she said. “Um, I mean, I saw the same thing in the activity pattern, that it's looked the same for the past year. But I cross-referenced all the activity from the past month, as well as selected time points going back two years, with Astronomics' triangulation data. That pattern started about eleven months ago, and the star hasn't changed position even once.”

“Meaning that it's been over Tokyo this whole time?” Francesca asked. “That's hardly surprising; Tokyo is a contractor hot spot, many are stationed here long-term. It was especially common in the past year, with the lead-up to the Tokyo Explosion.”

She turned to her captain to start discussing Interpol's logs again, but Ootsuka, still red in the face, interrupted. “Actually, our system here is much more sensitive than most other observatories. The data that we share is converted with the same software as everyone else so that it's compatible; but two years ago when Chief Ishizaki took over Astronomics data collection, she changed the standard operation procedures so that the data from the more sensitive system was saved as a backup. We can go back into those logs and rerun the analyses to narrow a contractor's location to within ten square kilometers, within the major Tokyo area.”

 Francesca blinked at her. “You have that kind of resolution?”

Ootsuka nodded shyly. “Only in the city.”

“That's good to know,” Navid put in, “but if it doesn't tell us anything -”

“Let her finish,” Misaki shot back, arms folded.

Ootsuka looked as if she wanted to crawl underneath the table and hide for the remainder of the meeting, but she said, “RS-334's position hasn't changed in the last eleven months even within those ten kilometers.”

Misaki raised an eyebrow. “So either all of his assignments have been in the exact same place for the past year, or -”

“Or he's one of the prisoners!” Kouno said excitedly.

“But how can a prisoner be using his power in prison?” Saitou said. “He can't have been using it to try and escape, because he's still there. And the guards would have noticed and put a stop to it.”

“Unless it was something relatively harmless,” Matsumoto mused.

Misaki nodded. “Or unnoticeable.” Low levels of synchrotron radiation didn’t always show up on certain types of recording devices, a fact that had stymied Section Four more than once. Cameras couldn’t be relied upon to record a contractor using their power.

“An interesting point but largely irrelevant,” Gmerek interrupted, causing Misaki to blink. Caught up in the familiar atmosphere of brainstorming, she’d almost forgotten that the Interpol team was there. The captain continued, “It's still very unlikely that this contractor had anything to do with Hourai's death - less likely, if he is indeed a prisoner himself.”

“Or herself,” Misaki interrupted, unable to let the thought go now that it was in her head. “Saitou, Kouno, Navid - remember that prisoner we saw on the surveillance cameras?”

Kouno grimaced. “The weird one, who was walking around with a magazine on her head?”

“The one who looked as if she could see into the camera,” Misaki nodded. “Maybe she wasn't involved, but what if she was watching?”

“It is possible, of course,” Gmerek conceded. “Worth checking into, at the very least. Navid and Saitou, why don’t you two head down to the prison this afternoon and speak with this prisoner.”

“I’ll go with Navid,” Misaki said suddenly. Gmerek looked like he wanted to argue; but it was after all her case. Superintendent Kan would probably give her another lecture about delegation, but she didn’t care. She had a pressing need to be involved in this case every step of the way. She knew that it wasn’t her fault Hourai was dead, and yet - her lanyard had been used as the murder weapon.

Navid pursed his lips, a habit that was beginning to annoy Misaki. “I’m not convinced that there was a contractor involved at all,” he said. “So far all of the actual evidence points to suicide. I saw nothing on the tapes. Mr. Matsumoto has gone through hours of footage and reported nothing but a momentary shading that could perhaps be a pair of wet footprints that faded immediately. The only thing that is unclear at this point is how the deceased obtained that lanyard.” He gazed down the table at Misaki.

“On the surface it does look like suicide,” Misaki admitted. “Hourai spent a month in that cell with no access to anything with which to kill himself; then I show up with my badge on a lanyard and suddenly he has the perfect opportunity. But this wasn’t suicide; I know it in my gut.” Also present in her gut was a roiling guilt: regardless of whether the murder was planned or spontaneous, if she hadn’t gone to the prison yesterday, would Hourai still be alive?

“The three of you didn’t know him. However, we worked with him for years. Matsumoto,” she turned to her subordinate, “think about his death - does it line up at all with the Hourai that you knew?”

“It does seem a little…beneath his dignity,” Matsumoto said slowly. “I can see him killing himself, but not like - not like that.”

“And why wait until he was taking a shower?” Misaki continued. “He could have done it at any time, once he had the lanyard. Why then?”

“Maybe he didn’t want the guards to think something was up by varying his routine?” Saitou said. “He couldn’t know when they were watching on the camera or not.”

“Maybe,” Misaki agreed. “But why bother covering his hands with the plastic gloves? If he was going to die, why would he care if they were ruined by the water? I watched hours and hours of those tapes too, and do you know what the one thing I didn’t see was?”

Both teams looked at her blankly.

“Him holding the lanyard. I never saw it leave my pocket. I never saw him remove it from his jumpsuit, and it wasn’t in his hands when he entered the shower.”

“Maybe he put it, ah,” Kouno began, then trailed off and blushed when she met his gaze. “Uh, you know. Where it can’t be seen.” He coughed.

“Crime lab would have found evidence of that. They didn’t. And there’s no way he could have hidden doing...that…from the cameras.”

“So, almost definitely a contractor then,” Matsumoto mused. “But which one?”

“My money is on HG-139,” Misaki said. “The activity started right before I arrived at the prison, and ended after they found Hourai’s body. He must have been doing something to hide his presence; continuous activity would be expected then. But we can’t rule out RS-334 either.”

“Wait, what about the dolls?” Kouno said suddenly.

Ootsuka frowned. “What about them?”

“Did they see anything? Ishizaki’s got a couple of them talking now, right? She can ask.”

“They’re not talking, Kouno, they’re interacting independent of their programing through a digital interface.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean. She can still ask them about it.”

“No, she can’t. The prison is on its own power grid. No Astronomics specters can enter.”

“Eunice jumped to Pandora’s independent grid once, during the Tokyo Explosion,” Misaki said, tapping her pen against her wrist. “It’s unlikely that she happened to be poking around the secure facility at the exact time of Hourai’s death, but I suppose it’s possible. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Yes Chief. Director, I mean.”

Misaki suppressed a sigh of exasperation. All of her team was quick to correct any outsider who called Misaki by her previous title, yet they were so used to calling her Chief that they were perpetually getting it wrong themselves. She was looking forward to the day when Superintendent Kan would finally appoint a new director, and Misaki could have her old title - and job - back.

The sudden clearing of a throat made her jump. She’d forgotten about the Interpol team again.

“This new triangulation system sounds very interesting,” Gmerek said. “Perhaps Ms. Ootsuka wouldn’t mind showing Francesca how it works. Maybe while you and Navid are interviewing the prisoner.”

“Of course,” Misaki said, embarrassed by her lapse.

Gmerek nodded. “Then let’s get back to work, and reconvene at seventeen hundred.” The two teams filed out, but as Misaki collected her tea and stood, the captain caught her eye.

“Director Kirihara, could I have a private word?” Gmerek asked. Saitou cast her a worried glance, but she shook her head slightly and returned to her seat, sipping her tea calmly. Gmerek took a seat beside her, rather than at the head once again. She had no idea what the man wanted to say that he couldn’t say in front of the others. Maybe he was going to berate her for taking control of the meeting. Well, let him; this was still her investigation.

“I want to apologize for Navid,” he said. “I hope you didn’t take offense to his insinuations. He was out of line; I’ll speak with him about it later.”

She blinked in surprise. “Thank you.”

“Will it be an issue if he goes with you to interview the prisoner? We can always send Francesca if so, but Navid does have more experience with interrogations.”

“No, it shouldn’t be a problem.” She picked up her notebook again, preparing to leave, but Gmerek wasn’t finished.

“I also wanted to say that I’m sorry for Hourai’s death. Not just because of the setback to the investigation; he was your mentor for several years, and his death must have been almost as shocking as the discovery of his betrayal.”

“I - yes, I guess it was, in a way,” Misaki admitted, still surprised by Gmerek’s sudden compassion. Her interactions with him thus far had been bland and almost perfunctory.

“I wish I had had the chance to interview him in person before he died.” He held up a hand to forestall an argument, though she hadn’t been about to make one. “I know why you wanted to keep Interpol out of it, and I completely agree. That sort of man would never allow himself to be goaded by strangers in an organization in which he had never held any power. The subversion that you proposed made perfect sense - and, in fact, seemed to work beautifully. You knew him best, after all. But before I joined Interpol, I was a negotiations expert with the FBI. I learned how to read people. There is so much more that you can learn from someone's body language in person than you can by merely watching on a screen. He probably wouldn't have talked to me, but I still might have learned something. In any case, you did a fine job.”

“I don't know,” Misaki said, a little confused by the unexpected praise. “I thought I was good at reading people too; but I worked for him for five years and never suspected a thing.” She’d thought that she'd known Hourai, and he'd turned out to be a rat bastard. She’d thought that she'd known her father; but instead of the forthright, just man she had been imaging, he was just as focused on self-preservation as any contractor.

Gmerek raised an eyebrow. “But you were the only one who suspected him. There wouldn't have been any investigation at all if not for you.”

“I had outside information that led me to suspect him in the first place, and I was too late to make a difference.”

“Hm, your informant. BK-201.” Gmerek steepled his fingers beneath his nose. “I would never have believed it - I mean, contractors turn against their own organizations at the drop of a hat, but joining a vigilante group? Risking themselves for the greater good. I still almost can't believe it. There's no way that I would have trusted such a contractor to the extent that you did, but you were right to. Our files on him are very sparse; everything that we do know comes from a single incident that we investigated at our own office branch in Bangkok. That case…” Gmerek’s face went slightly pale. “Well, based on that information alone, there's no way in hell that I'd trust any of his information, especially if he came to you of his own accord.”

Misaki tried not to flinch at that little white lie. Explaining exactly how BK-201 had come to be her confidential informant had not been easy; but the story that he had developed a conscience fit with his actions in the Gate, and so far both her team and Interpol had bought it. “It was a risk,” she hazarded, “but he let me live once when he could have killed me, easily. I thought I could trust him based on that.”

“Well, your intuition about him was right.”

She thought back to her last conversations with Hei; the fights and the arguments. She'd ignored her intuition, accused him of terrible things, and he'd left.

“I suppose so,” she said.

Gmerek stood. “Let me know if you need anything from Interpol; good luck at the prison today.”

“Thank you,” Misaki said, standing as well and bowing to hide the damned tears that were teaming behind her eyes yet again.


	7. Chapter 7

“So what intel do we have on RS-334?” Misaki asked Navid as she turned off the freeway and onto the busy street that would take them to the prison. She was getting tired of this trip, but Navid was having trouble keeping his slightly-panicked gaze off the road. She’d seen that look plenty of times before: a European car designed for right-hand driving being driven in a left-hand road system tended to freak people out. She herself was used to it, and tried to ignore the thought that perhaps it was karmic payback for his suspicion during their meeting.

“Don’t they drive on the left side in Thailand too?” she asked. “This should be normal for you.”

“I spent most of my Interpol career stationed in France,” Navid said. His grip on the door was white-knuckled. “The car is familiar, the road is not. It’s a little…disorienting.”

“Ah,” said Misaki, as she shifted up a gear to take the car around a slow-moving lorry. Beside her, Navid clutched the door handle even more tightly. “Anyway; RS-334. What do we know - who has she worked for, why was she arrested?”

“Right. Well, we don’t know much. According to the arrest papers her code name is Neela. It means _blue_ in Urdu.”

“A color-based code name; that’s the Syndicate’s system.”

“Yes, it does sound like it. It doesn’t say what she was imprisoned for beyond ‘attempting to hack into a secure network’.”

_That sounds promising_ , Misaki thought. If this Neela didn’t have any information for them about Hourai’s death, could she potentially be useful in getting into the Syndicate’s server? “What else?”

“She was arrested in Sapporo last July, and transferred to the prison in Tokyo that same month.”

“I don’t remember that arrest,” Misaki said. “The team up in Sapporo is small; they don’t have any place to hold the contractors that they arrest - which aren’t very many. We always travel up there to handle it.”

Navid shook his head. “None of the others on your team remembered it either. But Hourai signed off on her transfer himself.”

“Hm,” Misaki pondered aloud as she wove her car through the traffic. A light up ahead was about to turn yellow; she gunned the engine, and made it through just in time. Beside her, Navid pressed himself further into his seat. “Tsukuda Jiro was still in Sapporo around that time; he could have alerted Hourai. It sounds like the Syndicate wanted her tucked safely - and quietly - out of the way. We don’t know her history? What about her price or her power?”

“Nothing,” Navid said.

Misaki didn’t reply. This was the first promising lead that they’d had; but even so, she was careful not to let her optimism rise.

“Director,” Navid said as they pulled into the parking lot. “Might I make a suggestion?”

He’d better not be about to make a comment on her driving. “What is it?” she said, more coldly than she’d meant to.

“This contractor - if her power is indeed what we think it is, then she’ll know that we’re here to see her before they bring her into the interrogation room.”

Misaki nodded. “True. I was planning on calling ahead to Memoto to ask that she be taken there before we enter; that way she can’t observe us.”

“Yes, that would be good. But with Hourai’s death and our many visits, she’s sure to guess who we are regardless. What if, instead, we don’t hide our purpose?”

She grasped his meaning at once. “We can’t throw her off balance by showing up unannounced; so let’s make it clear that we know that she knows what we want. I like it,” she smiled grimly as they exited her car and headed into the prison.

Misaki had hoped that she would never have to set foot in this facility again. She knew it was a false hope; but still, to be back so soon...a nasty feeling something like dread settled in her stomach.

The journey to the surveillance station at the second checkpoint was as arduous and depressing as ever. Along the way, Misaki couldn’t help but glance up at every security camera that they passed; but there was no way of knowing whether the contractor was watching until they could actually see her on the screen. When they reached the checkpoint, she saw that Officer Suda was on duty again.

“No,” Misaki said when he asked if she wanted to see Hourai’s cell on the feed again. “I want to see prisoner nineteen.”

Suda clicked through a series of feeds until the central monitor showed Neela’s cell. The dark-haired woman was lying on her back on her thin mattress, one ankle crossed over her knee as she held a magazine above her head to read. It was a housekeeping magazine, Misaki noticed with interest. The television was on, but Neela never once looked toward it. Or the camera.

“Does she speak Japanese or English?” Misaki asked.

“English for sure,” Suda said. “One of the guards in block four talks to her sometimes. If she understands Japanese, she doesn’t show it.”

“This isn’t going to work if she never looks into the camera,” Navid muttered beside her.

Suda looked blank. “What was that?” he asked Misaki.

“We want her to look into the camera, like she was doing the last time we were here,” Misaki explained, folding her arms and staring at the screen.

Suda checked his watch. “It’s almost two. She’ll get up in a minute. It’s like she has some kind of internal clock; always knows when the next hour is striking.”

Sure enough, as the time changed to fourteen hundred, Neela stood up from her bunk and began pacing up and down the room as if bored, the magazine still in her hand. At last she paused in front of the television and gave it a couple of affectionate pats, as if it was a particularly well-behaved dog. Then she left her hand resting on it and looked straight into the camera. Misaki stared straight back at the woman’s image on the screen and waved.

“I’d like to speak with you,” she said in English, pointing at Neela’s figure on the screen. The contractor’s eyes widened in response, before she schooled her expression into a blank, untelling face. Then she gave a little shrug as if she couldn’t care less what Misaki wanted, draped the magazine over the top of her head, and went back to her bunk.

“Radio the superintendent, please,” Misaki told Suda, trying to contain her excitement that they seemed to be right about her power, “and tell him that I’d like to see prisoner nineteen in the interrogation room.”

Neela was waiting for them when Moriyama escorted Misaki and Navid in. The room was exactly the same as it had been before: cold, stark, and bare, except for the concrete table and the two security cameras mounted in the corners. Neela was seated on the far side of the table. Like Hourai had been, her hands and feet were cuffed and chained to the metal bar running down the center of the table. She looked at them with open curiosity as they entered and took seats on the stools across from her. Moriyama bowed slightly, then exited and shut the door behind him.

Taking a mental deep breath, Misaki set her voice recorder out on the table between them and switched it on. “Good afternoon,” she said. “I’m Acting -”

“Director Kirihara Misaki,” Neela finished for her. “Public Security Bureau, Foreign Affairs. And you’re Navid Iyer, Interpol. From the liaison office in Bangkok.” Her voice was a bit raspy as if out of use; she had a heavy accent that Misaki couldn’t quite place, but her English was perfectly easy to understand.

“Do you know why we’re here?” Misaki asked, masking her surprise that Neela knew her by name as well as by sight.

Neela shrugged, chains rattling. “Something to do with prisoner thirty-two's death, I'm guessing. Everyone is very interested in that.”

“That’s right,” Misaki said. “Were you watching when he died?”

Neela tilted her head slightly. Her brown eyes were wide, as if she could take in more of the world the wider they were. It was a little unsettling. “Don't you want to negotiate first? Why should I tell you everything I know, and get nothing in return?”

“What do you want?” Misaki asked.

“Information.”

“About what?”

“Everything. I've been here for a year, and the only things I ever learn is gossip from the guards. Which isn’t very much. They only bring me magazines to read, but they’re all in Japanese. It's been months since said I’ve had any visitor, and it's _boring_.”

“You’re hardly in a position to -” Navid began, but Misaki interrupted him.

“Alright,” she said, folding her arms. “Let's start with this. One month ago, the Syndicate attempted to wipe all dolls and contractors from the face of the earth during the peak of the sun spot cycle. They failed when a contractor activist organization known as Evening Primrose, working together with BK-201, destroyed their weapon and exposed the existence of contractors to the rest of the world. The head of Pandora and one of the main architects of the plan, Eric Nishijima, was murdered in cold blood by my former superior, Foreign Affairs director Hourai Yoshimitsu. That’s the man who was killed here a few days ago.”

Navid looked at her in open astonishment; apparently he’d expected her to play their cards much closer to the chest. But after thinking about it, Misaki had decided that he was completely right about the best way to deal with this contractor. And that meant holding nothing back.

“Huh,” Neela said. They waited, but she said nothing more.

“So, how much is that information worth?” Misaki asked at last.

She drummer her fingers on the table. “Quite a bit, I should think. So the Syndicate...”

“Is no longer in power,” Misaki finished.

“Huh,” Neela said again. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

“Everything. But let’s start with prisoner thirty-two. Were you watching when he died?”

Neela blew a stray lock of curling hair out of her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “But I didn't see much. I saw nothing, actually.”

Beside her, Navid huffed with impatience, but Misaki frowned. “What do you mean, nothing? I saw the footage from your cell’s camera - you were clearly watching _something_ during the time that he was dying.” She’d stood there for a solid twenty minutes, magazine resting on her head and her hand on the television, staring straight into the camera while Hourai breathed his last in a cell yards away.

“Oh, I was watching,” Neela said. “But there was nothing to see. It was sort of like a hole.”

“What was?” Navid asked, still clearly impatient.

“I don’t know if I can explain it.” She tilted her head to gaze into the camera on the wall behind Misaki and Navid. “When I look through the camera, I don’t see like my eye is seeing now. I see what the camera sees. Yesterday, when you came to visit the first time, there was something following you.”

Misaki felt a sudden chill, but there was no draft in the room. There had been a draft, yesterday. “What was following me?”

“A shape. It was hard to make out, because it was sort of...bendy. The light was different there, a hole where something should be, and the camera could tell.”

“I didn't see anything like that on any of the videos,” Navid said. Misaki nodded; she hadn't either.

“That's because you were watching with _your_ eye, not the camera's.” Neela explained, though it still didn’t make any sense to Misaki. “The shape followed the Acting Director into this room, right behind her like a shadow. It wandered around while you were talking; for a while it was crouched down by the table.”

_Reaching into my pocket for the lanyard, maybe?_ Misaki wondered, her skin crawling. “Did it follow me out?”

“No. It followed him out - prisoner thirty two. It followed him into his cell. Then it followed him into the shower.”

“Is it still here, in the prison?” The scanner would have picked up any synchrotron radiation in Hourai’s cell if a contractor had been hiding there, but he could have taken refuge elsewhere in the building.

Neela shook her head. “It left the cell when Moriyama opened the door to look at the body; I tracked it all the way back to the front entrance, where it waited around until someone went through the front door and then it followed right behind them.”

“What about the exterior cameras?” Navid asked. “Did he make himself visible again once he was outside?”

Neela shrugged. “I didn’t look; I was watching them panicking inside.”

“Why?” Navid demanded angrily.

“It was more interesting.”

“HG-139 was still active well after they found Hourai’s body,” Misaki reminded Navid, who was muttering under his breath about contractors. “He obviously wanted to make sure that he wasn’t seen in the vicinity.” She sighed to herself, disappointed. The confirmation that a contractor had indeed been responsible for Hourai’s death was satisfying, but they were still no closer to actually catching him or her; they didn’t even have a physical description to give to the doll network.

“So what is your power, exactly?” Navid asked. Misaki didn’t know what he intended with this line of conversation, but she listened with interest.

“It’s hard to explain,” Neela said. “I sort of…talk to machines, I guess.”

“Talk to machines?” he repeated, nonplussed.

“Yes. I can access any data on any network that an electronic machine is connected to.”

“So you can see through any camera on the prison’s closed circuit system?”

“Yes.”

“Why did the Syndicate put you in here,” Navid continued. “Was it to keep an eye on their other prisoners?”

“No,” Neela shrugged, her shoulders hunched. Misaki suspected that if the concrete stools had had backs to them, she would be lounging back and relaxed. “They did come and ask me questions about them sometimes, but I think they just didn’t want me poking around in their servers anymore.”

“What makes you say that?” Misaki asked, struggling to keep the excitement out of her voice at the word _server_.

The contractor was scratching idly at the surface of her handcuffs now, not looking up at the two of them. “I was following an interesting information string for one of the assignments that they’d given me, and went a little off course.”

“Off course how?” Navid prompted, when she didn’t continue.

Neela traced little patterns on the metal. “The Syndicate threw me in here to get me out of the way. Now you tell me they’re gone; but I’m still in here. Wherever here is; I’m guessing somewhere in Japan, since that’s where I was arrested and that’s what the guards speak.”

Misaki and Navid exchanged glances; Navid made a small hand motion that clearly meant _your city, your call_. There clearly hadn’t been a legal rationale for Neela’s imprisonment; but at the same time, Misaki knew nothing about this contractor. If she could indeed access secure databases and electronic records, what kind of trouble could she cause with that information? Then again, she could potentially be a huge help to the investigation.

“What would you do if I got you released?” Misaki asked. “Most of the Syndicate's hierarchy is under investigation, under arrest, or dead. You can't go back to them, and anyway, they've left you locked up here for the past year.”

“I don't know,” Neela said frankly. “Find something. Anything.” She looked up at Misaki, brown eyes wide. “It's so _boring_ in here.”

“Do you know what my department does?”

The contractor shrugged. “I'd never heard of you until the first time you showed up a month ago, escorting prisoner thirty-two. Something to do with foreign affairs, I'm guessing. Since you say that at every checkpoint.”

Misaki nodded. “In the past, our role was to investigate contractor-related crimes and to interface with the various government intelligence agencies that utilize contractors, and keep them secret. Now that the whole world knows that contractors exist, one of my jobs is to find a way for contractors to come out of the shadows and integrate into society. I've been thinking about hiring a contractor for my team.”

Beside her, Navid turned his head and stared. She hadn't mentioned this to any of the Interpol team yet; or her own, for that matter. But making a contractor a trusted member of her own team was a perfect way of showing the public that she believed every word that she was telling them. She had been hoping that Hei would come back to the city permanently; she was almost sure that if she offered him a job, he would take it, regardless of their previous arguments. But she couldn't hold out for that, however much she wished for it; he was getting further and further from Japan with every week that passed.

Neela was looking at her oddly. Misaki continued, “I'll have to go to my superior with this, but I may be able to release you. If I do, you will work with us on a case we're investigating concerning the Syndicate. At the end of that case, if things go well, I may be able to offer you a long-term position. I can't guarantee that my superior will be on board with this, but it's better than your options here.”

“Come back when you have a real answer,” Neela said. “And maybe I'll agree to help.” But Misaki saw the brightness in her eyes, the way she was sitting up a little straighter. An entire year, with no access to the outside world and no form of entertainment beyond spying on your fellow inmates - she was clearly desperate to get out.

“He's a very busy man,” Misaki said. “I can't bother him with something that might not even pan out.”

Neela drummed her fingers on the table; at last she sighed. “Alright, I’ll bite - what can I tell you so that you’ll talk to him?”

_Priorities_ , Misaki reminded herself. _You have her on the hook; don_ _’t get too greedy_. “You used to work for the Syndicate, and you obviously had access to at least some of their files. Is there any contractor you can think of who could have been responsible for prisoner thirty-two’s murder?”

“Hm,” Neela said, tilting her head to stare up at the ceiling. “Definitely a light-bending contractor. I’ve never met one with that ability, but I think I saw a Syndicate file once…yes. Messier code HG-139. Male; code name Abo, hometown Manila, Philippines. Date of birth: nineteen eighty-one. Contractor since two thousand. Ability to bend light to make himself invisible as well as camouflage anything that he’s in contact with. Payment - ooh, weird.”

“What?” Navid leaned in.

“Payment - he must keep his body completely hairless.”

Navid’s brow furrowed, and he ran a hand over his own clean-shaven head. “Anything else?”

“That’s all I saw of the file.”

“That was a very specific recollection,” Misaki said, raising one eyebrow.

“I have an eidetic memory.”

“No physical description?”

“There was a photo.” She closed one eye, still staring at the ceiling. “He’s a bald Filipino man with no eyebrows. Kinda beefy.”

“Beefy,” Misaki repeated flatly. The contractor shrugged.

“Can you draw a sketch?” Navid asked.

She gave a throaty laugh. “No, I can’t draw for shit. Well? Was that enough?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Misaki promised. She stood, Navid following suit. “Thank you for your time.”

Neela closed one eye again. “Time, I have plenty of.”

Misaki and Navid were silent on their way out of the prison. It was in part a precaution against Neela listening in on their conversation, even though Misaki had instructed Moriyama to leave the contractor in the interrogation room until they had left the premises. Mostly, however, Misaki’s mind was focused on processing what they had learned. A contractor, one who could make himself invisible, had followed her into the prison yesterday. He must have been close behind her, in order to get through some of the doors and gates without getting trapped. She suppressed a shudder, remembering that stray draft. _Like a hole_ , she thought. A shadow following her everywhere; but when she turned, there was nothing there.

~~~~o~~~~

 

“…and she kept asking questions like I have no idea how our own system works,” Ootsuka said. Section Four was gathered around the conference table, eating a quick dinner of donburri bowls before getting back to work; the Interpol team had chosen to go out. The timid woman had obviously had a bad afternoon, enough that she was willing to gripe about her co-workers in front of Misaki.  “Just because she’s a qualified Interpol star analyst and I’m only a liaison. I’d like to see her try and talk to Chief  Ishizaki like that.”

“But you _did_ explain it to her?” Misaki asked.

Ootsuka looked almost offended. “Of course, Chief.”

“I’ll be glad when these guys finish their investigation and finally get out of our hair,” Kouno put in. “Chief, how was your trip with Navid? A couple times during our meeting this afternoon I wanted to reach over the table and punch him in his smart mouth.”

Misaki had already updated them on what she and Navid had learned from Neela. “It was fine,” she told them, a little crossly. “We worked very well together. We can all learn a lot from the Interpol team, so this is the last time I’m going to say it: _stop_ looking at them as interlopers and work together.” She emphasized her last words with a jab from her chopsticks.

Her team all looked suitably abashed at the reprimand. _They_ should _feel bad_ , Misaki thought to herself. She was getting sick and tired of playing the peacemaker between two sets of squabbling children who didn’t know how to share.

“A contractor on the team, huh?” Matsumoto said after a long pause in which they all ate in silence. “I have to admit, it’s not something I ever expected to see happen.”

“It’s only temporary, for now,” Misaki said. “Anyway, we’ve worked with contractors before.”

“Yeah, but not contractors who _belonged_ to us,” Kouno said, stirring his noodles thoughtfully. “This is going to be pretty weird.”

“It’ll be nice to have another woman on the team,” Ootsuka said. “Even if she is a contractor.”

Saitou snorted. “It doesn’t matter if she’s female or not, as long as we can trust her.”

“RS-334…” Kouno said. “You know, she looked pretty cute on those surveillance videos. Do you think -”

“Don’t even think about it, Kouno, she’s a _contractor_ ,” Saitou said. “That-’s -” he broke off, catching Misaki’s eye and turning red before hurriedly looking away.

“Inappropriate,” she finished coldly, not caring to think about what he had been going to say. “If Neela does agree to help, she will be your colleague, and I expect you all treat her as such.”

“Do you think the superintendent will give you permission to release RS-334?” Matsumoto asked in the awkward silence.

“It’s hard to say,” Misaki said, scooping up a bite of beef. “But I have a meeting set with him first thing tomorrow morning; I’ll find out then.”

She hadn’t spoken to Superintendent Kan in person since Hourai’s death. Her call to his office yesterday on her way to the morgue had yielded a curt _Thank you for informing me_ and nothing else. She’d understood it to mean that he didn’t want her updating him until she had something concrete, though she had submitted an informal report following the joint team meeting that afternoon. Kan Dai was much more hands-off than even Hourai had been, and she was taking advantage of that by not supplying him with more information than was strictly necessary for decision-making; but this case was too important to let any detail slip by.

Kan had passed her initial Syndicate member purge directly following the Tokyo Explosion - had in fact been one of her staunchest supporters - but he had been superintendent of the Public Security Bureau for over a dozen years; plenty of time to be corrupted, and she still wasn’t one hundred percent sure that he was trustworthy. Unlike Hourai, who she’d reported to nearly every day, Kan had always been a distant figure to her in the police hierarchy. How could she possibly be certain about his loyalties?

She didn’t even know the people closest to her. She’d be wrong about her father’s principles all her life, and she’d been wrong when she’d thought that he still had enough of a sense of justice to turn himself in. Kan couldn’t make that permanent director appointment too soon - she just wasn’t cut out for this type of responsibility, she thought as she poked at her rice bowl.

Responsibility…she could hardly handle her responsibilities at work; what made her think that she was at all competent to handle being a parent? On her own? She hadn’t even realized that her birth control had expired - both Kanami and Dr. Eida had given her an earful for that. But…she could see that little turtle-shaped blotch clear in her mind, and found herself wishing that she could show it to Hei. But he was somewhere in southern China, about to walk into a trap that she could do nothing about.

Just then, the phone in the center of the table rang, making her jump. Ootsuka leaned forward to pick it up. “Section Four,” she answered, then sat up a little straighter. “Yes, sir. Yes, she’s here now. One moment, I’ll see if she’s free.” Ootsuka put the call on hold and turned to Misaki. “Chief - sorry, I mean Director - it’s the superintendent, here to see you.”

Misaki frowned, swallowing a mouthful of rice. “Of course - but his secretary told me he had a dinner engagement tonight; that’s why I have to wait until tomorrow to meet with him. And why is he calling from the door, he has his own access card.”

“Sorry, not Superintendent Kan; Superintendent Kirihara.”

Misaki dropped her chopsticks in surprise. “My dad is here? Buzz him in.”

As Ootsuka punched the code for the door, Misaki rose from the table and headed out into the main office to meet him. Her father was just entering from the elevator lobby. His suit was as immaculate as ever, but there was drained, weary look on his face that she hadn’t seen for a very long time.

“Dad, why didn’t you call my cell? I would have answered,” she added, somewhat sheepishly. “Let’s head up to my office - I’m on the twelfth floor now. We can talk privately there.”

But her father shook his head, looking grave. “I’d rather there were witnesses to our conversation,” he said. “Is the rest of your team here?”

The blood drained from Misaki’s face. “They’re in the conference room,” she said, gesturing towards the open door where the other members of Section Four were busily eating their dinner and pretending not to listen in.

She led her father over, schooling her expression into one of professional indifference. Naoyasu straightened his tie somewhat unnecessarily, then said to the room at large, “I’m here to confess to my involvement with the Syndicate.”

Everyone froze, staring openly at the Criminal Investigation Superintendent. Misaki’s throat constricted, and she put a hand on the door frame to steady herself. “Detective Saitou,” she said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts, “would you please take Kirihara Naoyasu into custody?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12.26.16 Chapter 3 has been updated with some small details, based on a lovely comment by Anweyr.


	8. Chapter 8

**April 13, 2008**

Misaki pushed out across the pool in a slow, lazy breast stroke. The cool water flowed smoothly across her skin and filled her ears, muffling all sound from the outside world. Not that there was much sound to muffle - her building’s indoor pool was empty this early in the morning. Or was it late at night? She was having trouble keeping track anymore.

It had been weeks since she’d followed any sort of normal swimming routine; she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it. Instead of coming up for a breath on each stroke, Misaki skimmed along just under the surface for as long as she could bear, until the air burned in her lungs and a band tightening around her ribcage forced her up. She sucked in a huge lungful of air before submerging again. The pale blue of the water surrounding her, the black stripe sliding along the pool floor beneath her; that was all that existed. That, and the circling thoughts that filled her mind.

She hadn’t spoken with her father since last night. As per protocol, she had recused herself from taking part in his interview. Saitou had filled her in afterward: her father had detailed an involvement that amounted to not much more than turning a blind eye, just as he’d described to her the previous night. Section Four was in the process of obtaining a search warrant for his office and condo, though there wasn’t much point - he’d turned himself in. If he was in possession of anything incriminating, he would have destroyed it. Like he’d destroyed the dossier on BK-201 that he had been given. In any case, the search shouldn’t take long; once it was completed he would be released on his own recognizance to await arraignment. The charges were likely to be corruption and obstruction of justice.

In the meantime, however, he was being detained in PSB headquarters’ holding cell. The guilt that she felt at the thought of her father, sitting in a dirty cell while strangers combed over his personal property, was like lead in her blood, threatening to drag her down to the white tiles on the pool’s bottom and keep her there, unable to come up for air.

Or maybe she was just tired; she’d slept even worse last night than she had the night before. It was the end of his career, and it was her fault. She was the one who had pushed him into confessing, had guilted him into admitting a role that was more or less inconsequential when the Syndicate was considered as a whole.

That it had been the right and just thing to do just made it worse.

Misaki reached the end of the lane; instead of turning to complete another lap, she inhaled deeply, then let herself sink to the bottom. Bubbles escaped her mouth in a glittering rush as she exhaled and settled cross-legged on the cold, polished tiles.

She was desperate to talk to her father, to apologize and beg for his forgiveness; and at the same time she was terrified to face him. But it didn’t matter; contacting him now would reflect poorly on both of them. All she could do was wait.

Her diaphragm constricted painfully, but she stayed where she was, watching the last tiny air bubbles flicker in front of her eyes on their way up to the surface. Kanami had promised to call her right away if Hei’s star - well, if anything happened once he reached Hong Kong. So far she hadn’t heard a word; that must be good news, she supposed. Of a sort.

At last she couldn’t handle it any longer. Empty lungs burning, Misaki pushed off the tiles and resurfaced with a gasp. She folded her arms on the lip of the pool and rested her head on them as water streamed from her swim cap down her face.

Another tenant had entered the pool; a young woman with a water-winged toddler in tow. Through fogged goggles Misaki watched as the woman carried her little girl down the steps in the shallow end; but when she tried to place her in the water, the girl clung tightly to her mother’s neck and cried. The more the woman tried to cajole her child into letting go and floating on her own, the harder the girl cried.

Misaki watched, mind drifting, until the mother glanced up and saw her. She looked away, and with weary difficulty, hauled herself out of the pool.

~~~~o~~~~

Misaki’s appointment with Superintendent Kan was at eight that morning. She stopped by her own office long enough to hang her coat and dump her purse in her desk drawer; then she headed down the hallway to the large corner office at the end. She straightened her jacket, then knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a gruff voice replied.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door - and was nearly hit in the ankle by a speeding golf ball. Instinctively she trapped the ball beneath her shoe before it could roll out into the reception area.

“Good reflexes!” a genial voice exclaimed.

Kan Dai was sitting behind his desk; his slightly harassed expression told her that it wasn’t he who had spoken. An elderly gentleman holding a putter stood next to the desk, smiling at Misaki.

“Sir?” she asked the superintendent in confusion.

“Come in, Kirihara,” Kan said. “And shut the door behind you.”

Misaki stooped to pick up the golf ball, then did as she was told. She approached the desk and bowed politely to her superior. He was a middle-aged man, who kept his growing bald patch in check with a close buzz cut; even his mustache and goatee were buzzed, framing a perpetual frown. His visitor, on the other hand, couldn’t be more different. With soft white hair, tortoiseshell glasses, and deep laugh lines, the other man was a marked contrast. He looked vaguely familiar, but Misaki couldn’t place him.

“Acting Director Kirihara, have you met Mr. Ito?” Kan said in a voice couldn’t possibly have sounded more disinterested.

Misaki blinked, then bowed, the golf ball still clutched in her hand. “No, sir, I haven’t had the pleasure.”

The former Director of the National Police Agency bowed in return. “I apologize for dropping in during your scheduled meeting, but I had something to discuss with your superior; and I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time, Miss Kirihara,” he said with a smile, and set the putter on Kan’s desk, dislodging a few carefully-placed papers; a muscle twitched in the superintendent’s jaw, but he didn’t say anything. Kan had once told Misaki that he practiced putting when he needed to think, but she had never seen the club anywhere near his fastidious desk, let alone on top of it.

“You have?” Misaki asked.

The older man nodded and seated himself in one of the leather chairs facing Kan’s desk; he patted the other one, and Misaki sat obediently, if awkwardly. “I was probably already retired by the time you joined the Agency,” he began.

“Yes, sir.”

“But I still have quite a few friends around, and anyway, we’re all one big family here. People talk. Your father has spoken quite a bit about your talents - well, from a father, that’s to be expected. Not even Naoyasu is as impartial as he thinks he is. But I knew Director Hourai well - we established Section Four together, in fact - and he mentioned several times how impressed he was by your talents. And Hourai was a not a man to give praise easily.”

“He told me that he had been grooming me for the Syndicate, sir,” Misaki couldn’t help adding. “Everything he said was with an ulterior purpose; his praise wasn’t worth much.”

Ito raised a finger and flashed her a warm smile. “That may have been true, but ask yourself this: _why_ did they want you in a top position? I can think of two reasons. One, they needed someone easily biddable, who would do as she was told without asking questions - but that doesn’t sound very much like you, does it; not from what I’ve heard, anyway. So that leave us with the second: they wanted someone intelligent, who would take initiative and work towards the good of the organization on her own. No doubt they expected that it would be easier to convert you to their philosophy.”

“I suppose,” Misaki said slowly. She hadn’t really thought of it that way before.

“And I think Hourai was quite right in his choice,” Ito said, still smiling. “Just look at what you’ve accomplished in the past month alone: prevented widespread panic at the outing of contractors, arrested your own superior, rooted the Syndicate out of the police, and refused to turn a blind eye to the crimes of your father. That was a very brave and difficult thing that you did last night. You’re an example to generations of officers to come!”

A cold lump settled in Misaki’s stomach. How did he know about her father already? Perhaps Kan had told him. “Thank you, sir, but I’d rather not be an example to anyone.”

“I’m afraid that’s really not up to you, my girl,” Ito said with a sympathetic chuckle. Then his expression turned slightly more somber. “Kan has just informed me of Hourai’s passing; it is a shame, such a shame. Whatever else he was, he was an excellent police officer. Do you have any idea how it happened? Certainly I can see him committing suicide to avoid disgrace, but it was far too late for that.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t discuss the details of an open investigation with anyone from outside of my department.”

Ito beamed at her. “I like this girl, Kan. Well, I’ve already taken up too much of your time.” He rose, bowing slightly to Misaki, who also rose. “Miss Kirihara, a pleasure to meet you. If there’s anything I can do to aid you in any capacity, please let me know. Kan, see you on the green tomorrow?”

Kan nodded distractedly and bowed to see the former director out; then he shut the door behind him. “My apologies, Kirihara; Ito was insistent on meeting you.”

“It’s not a problem,” Misaki said, still trying to decide what to make of the man. “I’ve wanted to meet him too, actually.”

“If your reasons have anything to do with the investigation, you’ll oblige me by waiting until you have solid evidence to do anything rash. I highly doubt that Ito has any connection to the Syndicate; but even if he is retired, rumors can do a lot of damage.”

“I understand, sir.”

Kan picked the putter up from off his desk and set it next to a bookcase in the corner, on which stood several modest tournament awards and photos of himself golfing with various government officials; then he returned to his desk and took a sheaf of paper from one of the tidy stacks. He glanced over it, then up at Misaki.

“Sit,” he said. “No need to be so formal.”

“I’m comfortable with formal, sir,” Misaki said before she could stop herself.

Kan’s eyebrows rose. “Suit yourself. Let’s discuss the elephant in the room first: your father.”

Misaki was still holding the golf ball in her hand; she squeezed it until her knuckles turned white. “Yes, sir.”

“I have the transcript of his interview here; have you seen it?”

“I know the salient points, sir.”

Kan grunted. “And what do you think? Has he been completely honest?”

“To the best of my knowledge, yes.”

“Well, that’s good, I suppose. He prepared recommendations for his temporary replacement, and suggested someone who Section Four has already cleared; we’ll have to take that rec with a grain of salt, but regardless, things are going to be a bit chaotic in Criminal Investigations for a while. Director Kumagai is not going to be happy.”

“No, sir.” The current NPA director was already unhappy with Misaki for her impromptu press conference a month ago - and for the fact that his office was the first that she’d sent her team to investigate. They hadn’t found anything incriminating on any of the staff, and Misaki was fairly certain that the director himself was clean; but he hadn’t been happy to have been under suspicion at all. And now she was dropping yet another corruption scandal as well as a logistical mess onto his lap.

“I’ll run any interference necessary; I just want you to be aware.”

“Yes, sir,” Misaki said, idly wondering if Hourai had ever had to run interference with Kan on her behalf. Probably not; she hadn’t started making waves until she’d met Hei, and by then the Syndicate’s plan had already been in full gear.

Kan set down the papers and picked up another sheaf. “Now, your report on the Hourai investigation.”

“This happened under my watch, sir. I'm sorry,” Misaki said, bowing stiffly with her arms at her side.

Kan regarded her dispassionately, reminding her markedly of her former boss. “You did everything that was humanly possible, Director,” he said at last. “That facility was built for the purpose of keeping dangerous contractors _out_ as well as in, but it still wasn’t perfect.”

“You think I'm right, then?” she asked in surprise. “That Hourai was murdered by a contractor?” She hadn’t reported on her conversation with Neela yet; her father’s confession last night had placed everything else on the backburner.

Kan flipped through her report. “It's very subtle,” he said. “Everything in here could be a coincidence or even pure imagination, like those wet footprints. But yes, I believe you. I knew Hourai quite well - his position in the Syndicate did not surprise me at all; neither would I be surprised if he'd killed himself to save face. But like this? No, it's far too messy for someone like him. I'm sure that whoever is still running what's left of the Syndicate orchestrated this. Have you any concrete leads yet? Something more than conjecture?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and proceeded to fill him in on her and Navid’s interview with Neela.

“So she named HG-139 independent of your own data? That certainly lends some credibility to her information. What did you promise her in exchange for getting her to talk?”

“I didn’t promise anything; I told her the current state of the Syndicate, and suggested that if she continues to aid our investigation, we might hire her on in Section Four.”

Kan nodded minutely. He’d been moderately encouraging the last time that she had brought up the issue of hiring a contractor, though not exactly enthusiastic. “That is a decision that is not to be rushed, Kirihara,” he admonished. “Employing a contractor in the police is far more risky than any other job sector; especially if there’s still a Syndicate presence here. Still, if you manage to obtain her full cooperation, this could serve as a useful trial run.”

“Yes, sir. She has incentive to help out. At the very least, she has an interest in taking down the Syndicate. But her usefulness is limited in prison; may I use my personal authority as Acting Director to -”

“Kirihara,” Kan interrupted, “I think you keep forgetting: you _are_ Acting Director. That authority is yours to use however you see fit. If I take exception to an abuse of power, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Oh. Um, thank you, sir.”

Misaki left the office, feeling slightly off balance. She would have expected Kan to exert more authority over her, especially considering what his previous subordinate had done with _his_ authority. Maybe he was planning on letting her crash and burn on her own, so that if she went terribly wrong, he could claim that she had acted independently. Director Kumogai was already predisposed to mistrust her.

Well, if that was the case, she would simply have to not fail.


	9. Chapter 9

**April 15, 2008**

“I don’t know, Misaki,” Kanami sighed as she pulled two bottles of water out of the cooler and handed one to Misaki. “ _Bald, Filipino, and kinda beefy_ isn’t much of a description to go on.” She dropped her voice, even though there was no one in the store besides the clerk, who was several aisles away. “Specters can’t tell the nationality of a person, not without an actual photo of the suspect for reference. And how the hell do you explain to a doll what _beefy_ means?”

Misaki looked longingly at the shrimp tempura bento in the case, but just the thought of the taste of the greasy batter turned her stomach. She picked up an onigiri one instead. “I know; but that’s all we have right now.”

“Well, I put out an alert on his star, so we’ll know right away when he uses his power. Eunice and Gustav are on the search detail; the others would need a digital photo for their face recognition software. Maybe we’ll get lucky and his star will activate when one of them happens to be nearby and they’ll see him.”

“If that’s the case, they _won_ _’t_ see him.”

Kanami sighed again. “Right. Invisibility. This one’s going to be a real bastard to catch, isn’t he.”

The two women made their way to the register to pay. As Kanami fished around in her wallet for some loose change, Misaki let her gaze roam over the shelves of magazines below the counter. She spotted the housekeeping magazine that Neela had been reading in her cell. A new issue was out; Misaki wondered idly if the contractor actually liked that publication, or if it was simply the only one the guards would bring her. Then the tabloid next to it caught her eye. The main headline read, _Help! I_ _’ve Fallen in Love with a Contractor! Inside: the lurid details will shock you!_

“Misaki, what’s wrong?” Kanami asked in concern.

“Nothing,” Misaki said hurriedly, but her friend had already seen what she was looking at.

“Oh. Ignore it; that magazine is garbage, everyone knows that.”

“I know,” Misaki said. But she had never told Kanami about those photos. If that man wanted to discredit her, a ridiculous story in a sensationalist publication might be enough, with those photos.

She had to know. She handed her water and bento to Kanami and pulled the magazine off the shelf to flip through the pages, heart pounding.

“Well?” Kanami asked as Misaki scanned the story.

There _were_ photos, a lot of them - but none of either Hei or herself. In fact, the supposed contractor didn’t even look human. She squinted, trying to tell if the green skin was makeup or just liberties with photoshop. “Garbage,” she said at last, and replaced the magazine on the shelf with a sigh of relief.

“I told you. Come on, where do you want to eat?”

Misaki handed her cash over to the clerk. “There’s a park down the street; we can sit there.”

The small park was really more of a playground than anything else: there were swings, a slide, a merry-go-round, and even a couple of those springy rocking horses that Misaki had never seen the appeal of at all. But there was a nice wide wooden bench encircling a tall oak tree; the oak was just beginning to leaf out, a verdant green against the slate-gray sky.

“Cute place,” Kanami commented as they settled down to eat. “Not too far from your apartment building - are you going to bring the little turtle to play here?”

Misaki shrugged. She’d taken to stopping by this park whenever she needed to get away from headquarters and think, even though it was closer to home than the office; but she couldn’t remember ever seeing any actual children playing in it. It was hard to imagine coming here with a child of her own. Then again, it was still hard to imagine doing _anything_ with a child of her own.

“I’m going over to my parents’ for dinner tonight,” Kanami said. “Mom said you were welcome to come - she’s making lasagna. And Julia’s on a school trip, so the level of teenage drama in the house will be exactly zero.”

Misaki laughed. “I haven’t seen Julia in years.” Her most recent memory of Kanami’s younger sister was of a little girl in pigtails, too shy to even say hello to her sister’s friends. “She’s not that bad, is she?”

“Well, Mom says that I was worse, but I don’t see how that’s possible. _I_ never slammed the door so hard that Mom’s china plates fell off the shelf and shattered into a million pieces.”

“Oh god, your mom loves those plates!”

Kanami grinned. “Yup - poor girl spent a whole month without her phone after that. So how about it - lasagna?”

Misaki bit her lip. Mama Ishizaki’s lasagna was practically world famous, but… “I can’t; I have to work.”

“Misaki…”

“It’s not something I can put off - after we release that contractor from prison this afternoon, I need to make sure that she gets settled in her new apartment. She doesn’t speak Japanese at all, so I can’t just leave her hanging.”

Kanami’s eyebrows rose. “This is the one you want Astronomics’ eyes on?”

“Yes. Well, not her, exactly. I’ve done my best to keep the release quiet, but if the Syndicate has found out about it, I’m worried that they’ll send HG-139 to terminate her before she has a chance to tell us anything. My team has been watching the place around the clock for the past two days, and no one matching that description has been anywhere near it. But a transfer is always the most risky stage of an operation; I want to make sure she’s safe.”

“Well, the only way he’ll sneak up on you is if he activates his power - and if he does, we’ll know it.”

Misaki nodded. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

“You said you’re getting her an apartment - are you hiring her, like a consultant?”

“Yeah, something like that. And if things go well, we might be able to make her a permanent member of the team.”

“That would be fantastic progress to show those idiots at the press office. If it was dinner at my place, I’d say bring her along - but I’m not sure how my parents would react to a contractor house guest. Well, Mom would probably feed her until she burst, and Dad wouldn’t be interested at all unless she could talk baseball with him. But still.”

Misaki smiled. “I’ve only spoken with her once, so I don’t have a good handle on her personality. I don’t think she’s dangerous, but it’s always best to err on the side of caution with contractors. When -” she began, but a loud chime from Kanami’s phone interrupted her.

Kanami pulled her phone out of her pocket and glanced at the screen; then her expression broke into a warm smile.

“Sekine?” Misaki asked knowingly.

Her friend turned slightly pink, still smiling, and nodded. “She asked if I want to catch a movie tonight. Maybe I’ll head over to Mom and Dad’s tomorrow for leftovers, instead.”

“Have they met her yet?”

“Not yet. It’s still early, you know?”

“I guess. It’s been what - two months? You’ve dated and dumped a lot of people of much less time than that,” Misaki pointed out.

“Yeah.” Kanami hesitated, poking at her bean sprouts. “It’s just…I’ve never brought home a _girl_ friend before. And Mom’s Catholic. Well, lapsed Catholic, but still Catholic.”

“I can’t imagine Laura objecting to anyone that you really liked.”

Kanami shrugged. “Me either, but - I don’t know. I’m not ready yet.”

“Well, I’d say that if you care about Sekine as much as you seem to, you should introduce them earlier rather than later.” She took a swig of water. “But then, _I_ hid the existence of my secret lover from _my_ dad until I was already pregnant, so I’m not sure how much my advice is actually worth.”

Her friend laughed. “Misaki, you know your advice means everything to me. But Hana hasn’t passed the Misaki test yet, so how can I bring her home to my parents?”

“Kanami, you don’t need me to -”

“I trust your judgment,” Kanami broke in with a wave of her hand. “It’s just been impossible so far to find a time when all three of us can get together, what with Hana’s schedule at the ER and your new workload. But I really want you two to meet each other; then I’ll figure out what do about Mom and Dad.”

“I did meet her, at the Gate Relief Fund party.”

“Mm hm. And Li was there, and you were one hundred percent focused on him; don’t say you weren’t.”

Misaki had no argument against that. She’d thought about that night a lot recently. If she had been paying any attention at all, she would have known that she was pregnant by then, or at least suspected. She could have told Hei, and they could have discussed it, together. Then maybe they wouldn’t have fought, and he wouldn’t have left. Maybe.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” Kanami said suddenly. “It looks like he’s gotten out of Hong Kong alright.”

“He has?” Misaki sat up a little bit straighter. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure that his star is no longer positioned over the island as of this morning, and I’m sure that over the course of the last two nights Hong Kong saw a _lot_ of activity surrounding that star. Half a dozen others fell, and so far none of the other active stars have left the city. So, it looks like he’s gotten away. Yin too.”

“Thank god,” Misaki breathed. “I was so worried. That nurse told me to keep my stress levels low to protect the - the baby, but how can I, when I know what he’s up against every single day?”

Kanami cast her a sympathetic look. “Are you sure you want me to keep updating you?”

“Yes; it would be worse not knowing.”

Kanami nodded. “Well, it’s up to you.” She checked her watch. “I need to get to back to the lab; I want to make sure I’m there to direct the specters myself in case HG-139 does show up. Want to do leftovers with me tomorrow?”

Misaki hesitated. “I’ll see what my schedule ends up looking like.”

“Alright; but I’m going to keep asking until you eventually say yes. You can’t isolate yourself, especially if - well, if your dad ends up going to prison. You don’t have to do this alone.” She leaned over and pressed Misaki into a warm hug. Misaki was getting a lot of those, lately.

“Thanks. I know.”

Kanami left the park, heading to the metro line that would take her back across town to the observatory; but Misaki stayed. She still had a few minutes to kill before she needed to leave for the prison - for hopefully the last time - to pick up Neela. She may as well spend them here as anywhere.

A chilly wind was kicking up; Misaki buttoned up her raincoat and watched as the swings on the swing set began to slowly drift back and forth, as if an invisible hand was pushing them, the chains creaking quietly. She shivered; it reminded her of another chilly day on a different playground.

It had been fall then, not spring - the trees surrounding the park next door to their apartment building were covered in bright orange and red leaves. Misaki had always loved the swing the best, especially when her father was there to push her as high as it would go. That Saturday, he had to go into the office, so it was just Misaki and her mother in the park. Yasuko had been feeling tired lately, too tired to push, so Misaki pumped her legs and swung herself up, up, up until the chains were nearly parallel with the ground. She laughed at the cold wind on her face, imagining that she was soaring through the sky, like a bird that didn’t need wings.

“Mom, look!” she shouted, draping her head backwards to watch the ground rush past upside-down.

“Oh Misaki, don’t, you’ll get your hair full of dirt,” Yasuko admonished, but she was smiling where she stood next to the metal post, watching her daughter.

A flock of ducks passed by low overhead; Misaki watched them drift into a lazy v-formation. From the top of her arc, they looked almost close enough to touch. “Want to see how far I can jump?”

When Yasuko didn’t answer, Misaki turned - and saw her mother sitting on the ground, one hand pressed against her belly and the other clutching the post of the swing set.

“Mom?” Misaki dug her heels into the ground and skidded to a halt amid a cloud of dust. Heart pounding in sudden fear, she leapt off the swing and dashed to her mother’s side. “Mom, are you okay?”

Yasuko brushed her long hair away from her ashen face. “I’m fine, sweetie - just a stomachache.”

“Should I go call Dad?” Misaki had never seen her mother looking so ill before, and it scared her. Her father would know what to do; he always did. There must be a phone in one of the stores across the street, or maybe she could run back to their apartment.

“No, I don’t want to worry him - I just need to sit for a while. Don’t worry honey, I’m fine.” She pulled Misaki close and kissed her cheek in reassurance. “Why don’t you show me how far you can jump, hm, my little daredevil?”

She smiled, but it looked pained and only made Misaki more afraid. “Actually, I’m kind of tired of swinging,” Misaki said. “Maybe we could go home and make some hot chocolate instead?”

“That sounds good too.”

They sat together on the ground for a few minutes, until Yasuko could stand again. The cold wind no longer felt exhilarating; Misaki started to shiver as she watched the dead leaves blowing across the empty playground.

A sudden rustling snapped Misaki back to the present. The sound came again, to her right. She glanced over, her hand automatically going for her weapon only to run into her buttoned-up coat. But before she could panic and curse her carelessness, she saw that it was just a cat. A black cat, slinking across the gravel and underneath the slide. Misaki stared; it had a frayed red collar, and what could be a metal clip in its ear.

She stood cautiously and - just to be safe - unbuttoned her coat as she approached the slide.

“Mao?”

The cat tucked itself into the shadows and growled, low and menacing. Misaki took a step closer; the cat hissed and crouched into a defensive posture. It could be an act - he didn’t know that she remembered meeting him, after all - but there was an unmistakably feral edge to his behavior, and she had glimpsed an outline of ribs when he’d stalked out of sight. This might have been the body that the contractor had possessed, but it didn’t seem as if he was inhabiting it any longer.

“Sorry,” Misaki told the cat, unexpectedly disappointed. “I thought you were someone I knew.” She turned, and left the park.


	10. Chapter 10

It had taken Section Four two days to get the necessary approvals and paperwork in place for Neela’s release. The task was made even more challenging by the need to keep things quiet. Misaki had to be able to pay the contractor enough of a stipend so that she could live modestly on her own; it wasn’t a lot of money, but creative accounting wouldn’t be enough to disguise it in the budget. And Misaki didn’t want to lie about what she was doing. Everything had to be above-board from now on.

Ootsuka was the one who had come up with the solution; and after some shuffling of the small surplus in Section Three’s budget, it was official.

Misaki just hadn’t told her yet.

_Someone_ in the Syndicate was watching. HG-139 had been present in the interrogation room, so he had known that Hourai had agreed to a deal, and thus killed him before he could talk; but why had the contractor been there in the first place? Misaki hadn’t formally scheduled her visit; she’d called ahead to Memoto earlier that day, and she had discussed it with Section Four - and Kan, and Kaede - a few days prior. Either someone had talked, or the Syndicate had other ways of listening in.

Things had been so much simpler when Hei and Saitou had been the only ones who she’d confided her investigations to. Simpler; but not easier. Misaki couldn’t operate like that anymore - she didn’t _want_ to - but still not knowing who she could trust was beyond frustrating.

So releasing Neela from prison was no simple task. No one at the prison had been informed ahead of time, and her team had had eyes on the facility ever since she’d made the decision. If anyone tried to enter without prior approval, they’d know. If HG-139 turned himself invisible within a ten-square-kilometer radius of the prison, they would know, and be able to take action to prevent his sneaking in unseen.

Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, Misaki found herself wishing that they had the ability to track contractors within that close range _without_ them using their power; but while stars did remain in the same general geographical location as their contractors, it was only while they were active that Astronomics’ triangulation system could narrow down a contractor’s location, and it took an actual specter (or innocent bystander) to spot them. In terms of preventing crimes, it wasn’t very useful; a chip or tagging system would be far more effective.

Then again, such a system would make Hei that much easier to track as well. Maybe she shouldn’t wish for it so hard.

Traffic on the freeway was only moderately heavy for this early in the afternoon, and Misaki threaded her Porsche between slower-moving vehicles easily. Out of long habit, she kept an eye on the individual cars around her - and with a jolt spotted a black sedan about two cars back, keeping pace with her.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. It could be nothing; it could be just another driver in a rush, following the same path that she was picking out for herself because it was the most efficient way around traffic.

As she continued towards her exit, the black car continued to follow. She dropped her speed; the other car almost overtook her before dropping back himself. Misaki stared into the rearview mirror, but she couldn’t make out the driver. Whoever he was, he seemed more interested in following her than catching her.

When had she picked him up? She hadn’t noticed anything suspicious at the park, and she’d left straight from there.

Making a snap decision, she whipped her car across two lanes of traffic towards an approaching exit ramp. Horns blared and tires screeched, but she dodged the other cars expertly and made it onto the ramp. In her mirror, she saw the black sedan attempt to follow, only to be pushed back into his lane by a passing car.

Another chorus of angry horns sounded. She was too far down the ramp now to see the freeway, but no black sedan appeared in the lane behind her.

Misaki exhaled slowly and released her white-knuckled grip on the wheel, trying to force her heart rate back down. Hei had warned her before about always taking the same routes; she’d thought that he was just being overly paranoid, but adding a little variety was starting to look like a good idea now.

This exit was only a couple of kilometers from the one she had been planning on taking; so she drove the long way around, keeping an eye out for any other suspicious-looking vehicles while her mind turned over what had just happened. It had been a clumsy tailing job; so, either an amateur, or a professional who had wanted to send a message. Who, though?

Saitou and Kouno were parked across the street from the prison when Misaki arrived, her heart still pounding with adrenaline. She pulled up behind Kouno’s silver Nissan and got out; the biting wind slipped through her open rain coat, and she shivered as she leaned down to the Nissan’s passenger-side window. “Anything?”

Saitou shook his head. “No traffic in or out. Nothing suspicious at all.”

“Good,” Misaki said. “Astronomics has three dolls assigned to this block, but they haven’t reported anything either. We -”

“Hey,” Kouno said suddenly, “Who’s this?”

A car had just turned up the street in front of them. A black sedan.

Misaki’s hand darted beneath her jacket. All three of them watched as the sedan rolled to a stop several yards ahead of the Nissan; and Misaki suddenly recognized it.

“God damn it,” she muttered. “Stay here.” She let go of her gun and stalked up to the black Honda. The door opened as she approached, and Toda Toru emerged.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, following me?” Misaki demanded.

The reporter grinned at her. “That was a hell of a move back there - do all police know how to drive like that?”

Misaki folded her arms. “Answer the question.”

“Is it illegal to drive on the freeway, or to park on a public street?”

“I’ve warned, you, Toda -”

He held up a hand. “Look, I just wanted to have a chat with you; since you won’t return my calls or my emails, I thought maybe I could catch you outside of the office.” Adjusting his glasses, he glanced over at the prison. “It was a lucky guess that you were headed here - interviewing Director Hourai again?”

“This investigation is classified,” Misaki said. “And if you haven’t noticed, I’m sort in the middle of something right now. When I have anything to say to the press, you can read it in the press announcement like everyone else.”

“It’s hardly investigative reporting to wait for a press release. The people of Tokyo have a right to know what’s happening in their city.”

“If you want to talk, call my office, and -”

“Come on, Director!” Toda exclaimed, exasperated. “We both know you won’t make an appointment. I just wanted to ask you about your father, get your side of the story.”

Misaki froze. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you know he was going to turn himself in - did you have prior knowledge of his involvement with the Syndicate?”

“Where did you get this information?” Misaki demanded, sweat beading on her brow despite the wind. Hourai’s voice echoed in her mind: _You_ _’d sell out your own father for another gold star on your record_.

“Arrests are public record -”

“Not Section Four’s! Not until they’ve been declassified - _where_ did you get this information?” Two car doors slammed shut behind her, but she didn’t turn away from Toda.

“You know I can’t reveal my source -” the reporter began, but Misaki interrupted.

“Your _source_ is going to land you five years in prison if you print a single word of this.” Misaki was furious. He was right; her father’s arrest had been kept quiet, but it hadn’t been classified. Leaking the news to the press wasn’t technically a crime, but if that leak interfered in her investigation, she could probably get a judge to invoke the State Secrecy Law.

Of course if it reached that point, then the damage - whatever that may be - would already be done.

Running footsteps announced the arrival of her subordinates. “Director, is everything alright?” Saitou asked, with a glare at Toda.

“You’re here to keep an eye on that building, not me,” Misaki said evenly. “Both of you get back to your post.”

The two men exchanged glances; but they did as she told them, walking at an unnecessarily slow rate.

Toda watched them go warily. “I’m not going to print anything,” he said. “But reporting on police investigations is my job. Surely you of all people know how important it is to keep tabs on what’s going on inside the NPA.”

She hated his insinuations; and hated that he was right. “If that’s the case, then tell me who has been giving you information on _my_ investigation.”

“Sorry, Director; I can’t do that.”

Misaki glared. “Fine. Then we’re done here. Like I said earlier, my team is in the middle of an operation; you should probably leave.”

“What sort of operation?” he asked, not even bothering to try and hide his interest.

“It’s classified,” she told him. “But there’s a high likelihood of a contractor attack on this prison within the next hour. I suppose that anything you see from a public street is fair game; but it could be dangerous for bystanders. Stay at your own risk.”

She turned on her heel and strode back to Kouno’s car. What she had told Toda wasn’t strictly true; but there _was_ a chance of an attack on Neela, and - as much as she despised him - he _was_ an innocent bystander. She didn’t want the reporter’s blood on her hands. Hopefully he would leave; but if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to see anything of Neela’s release from the street. Misaki didn’t want to hide what she was doing - but she didn’t want to advertise it either. Especially not to a reporter.

Her subordinates cast her worried looks when reached the car. “Keep an eye on things out here. He” - she nodded at Toda - “is not to get any closer than the street. Astronomics will alert us if there’s even the slightest hint of activity in the area, so be ready. When I have Neela, follow me back to headquarters.”

“Right Chief,” Kouno said, and Saitou elbowed him. “Director, I mean.”

~~~~o~~~~

 

“Everything looks to be in order,” Superintendent Memoto said. He cleared a space on his overflowing desk, set down the release authorization form, and added his signature next to Misaki’s. Then he handed it back.

Misaki tucked the folder with the signed papers under her arm and glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room; but there was no way of knowing whether the contractor was watching or not.

“We took the television out of her cell,” the superintendent commented, seeing her gaze. “Now that we know she’s been using her power to spy on the rest of the prison. In any case, Moriyama has her waiting downstairs; I’ll walk you down.”

That was a bit cruel, Misaki thought to herself as she and Memoto headed down to the next level. But then again, that was really the whole point of this prison, wasn’t it.

As they passed under an air vent in one of the corridors, Misaki couldn’t repress a shudder at the draft brushing against the back of her neck. The feeling sharply recalled her trip to the bowels of the prison after Hourai’s murder, enough that the bile rose reflexively in her throat. She tried to tell herself that it was just her usual evening nausea, showing up a bit earlier than normal. Nothing to do with nerves.

She hadn’t been allowed to take her phone past the first security station, as per protocol, but her team had instructions to call Memoto immediately if there was any sign of trouble. They would have plenty of warning before anything happened. But she still had her gun. It would be fine.

Neela was waiting in the interrogation room as before, picking absently at her cuffs. She looked up with interest as Moriyama escorted Misaki and Memoto inside.

“Uncuff her,” Misaki told the guard. Moriyama glanced at his superior, who nodded; he moved forward and unlocked first Neela’s ankle cuffs, then her wrists.

Neela eyed the guard as if he was playing some kind of practical joke on her. “You’re not really getting me out, are you?” she asked Misaki.

“That depends on you,” Misaki said, taking a seat across from the contractor as the two men left the room. She opened her folder and took out a sheet of paper, setting it down so that it was facing Neela. The Japanese text on the page was duplicated in English; Neela looked at it with interest. “This is an offer of temporary employment as a consultant to the Public Security Bureau, Foreign Affairs Section Four. You’ll be paid on a per-hour basis, under my direct supervision. There’s a cap on how much we can spend on consultants, so this won’t be quite enough to live on. But here,” she laid out another sheet, “is a confidential informant agreement. Because you _are_ possibly wanted by the Syndicate, your anonymity will be important, as will your information. With the payments for that information, you should have enough for an apartment and all the necessities.”

“The Syndicate paid me a lot more than that,” Neela commented mildly, running a finger along the English text.

“And they arrested you and threw you into prison to rot,” Misaki reminded her. She set out a third paper. “There will of course be stipulations to your employment on top of what is already required for PSB employees. We haven’t had a contractor on the payroll before, so we might have to make some adjustments as we go. The background check may be difficult, for example; I expect full disclosure of your activities since becoming a contractor. If you agree to work with us, I expect you to treat all conversations and information as confidential and classified. Leaking such information is a prosecutable offense. Of course you’d be free to leave our employment at any time, but the nondisclosure clause would still stand.”

“What if I decide to go work for a foreign agency, or another crime syndicate?”

Misaki had to admire the boldness of the question; most contractors wouldn’t have wanted to plant any potential seeds of doubt like that. “We would find and arrest you, just like any other contractor who is involved in espionage or criminal activities on Japanese soil. I know we don’t have a lot to offer,” she said, softening her tone, “especially compared to the big players like the Syndicate. But in the police we think of ourselves as an extended family: we’re loyal to each other, and we support each other. People, more than just their skills, have value. At the very least, it’s an honest living while you think about other options and moving on with the rest of your life.”

Neela drummed her fingers on the table. “I can leave at any time, and you won’t hunt me down?”

“Not unless you do something illegal.”

“No M.E., if I find out something that you don’t want me to know?”

That wasn’t something that Misaki had considered beforehand. She answered as honestly as she could. “Current policy is to modify the memories of civilians who witnessed contractor-related activity, whose testimony could be damaging to public security. That’s likely to change after the U.N. recommendations for contractor regulation are announced; but it never applied to police. Before contractors were made public, officers who ran across them were debriefed, asked to sign additional nondisclosure agreements, and were informed that they would be severely prosecuted under the State Secrecy Law if they violated those agreements. As an employee of the PSB, I would say that you would fall into that category. So no; no M.E.” They would just have to take the risk of Neela stealing or leaking confidential police data. The same risk that they took with human officers.

The contractor’s gaze drifted up towards one of the security cameras in the corner near the ceiling; with her hands now free of the cuffs, she reached up and absently twisted a lock of her dark hair. “I never signed anything for the Syndicate.”

“No,” Misaki said. “I don’t imagine they had much in the way of an HR department.” She didn’t expect a signature to mean anything at all to a contractor; even someone like Jack Simon, who had admitted to having pride in his employment, probably wouldn’t consider a signed pledge to be worth the paper it was printed on. It was important to Misaki, though - it meant that she was following procedure, and procedure was _real_. It was a sign that the world was functioning the way that it ought to.

Neela considered for a long moment, still fiddling with her hair. At last she sighed. “Alright. I’ll sign.”

Careful not to let her relief show, Misaki unclipped a ballpoint pen from the folder and passed it over. Neela picked it up a bit awkwardly, held it over the first signature line - then paused.

“What name should I sign it with?”

Misaki blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, usually contractors get assigned new code names when they change organizations. Neela was my Syndicate codename - will I keep that with the police? If you change it, then I can’t really sign with it, can I?”

“I hadn’t thought of that; we don’t use code names in the PSB. Confidential informants are assigned numbers -”

“Like prisoner nineteen?” the contractor asked, a bit too slyly for comfort.

“Yes, like that,” Misaki said. “But I don’t think that would be appropriate in this case. I suppose if you wanted, you could keep going by Neela.”

Neela chewed on her lip, a startlingly human gesture. “I guess I could. But Neela was the Syndicate’s pet hacker, who spent the last nine months and four days of her life in prison. I don’t think I want to stay her.”

“What about the one you were born with?” But even as she suggested it, Misaki knew that the contractor would reject the idea. Hei had never liked even hearing his original name.

Misaki had a sudden, shocking thought: Would Hei change his name, now that he’d left the Syndicate? They had been the ones to name him, after all - and then they had betrayed him. That name had represented everything that he’d hated about himself. He would need to use aliases, surely, but beneath the false identities who else would he be except _Hei_? She found herself hoping desperately, and probably selfishly, that he would keep it. It was the name that he’d given her when he’d finally taken off his mask. Even if he did return to using Li Tian, he would always be Hei to her.

“I don’t…no,” Neela said, snapping Misaki back to the present. “Not that name. I’m not really that person anymore; not since I became a contractor. It would be…I don’t know. Weird.”

“Well,” Misaki said, still trying to shake the idea of Hei becoming someone different, a stranger. “Why don’t you choose one for yourself?”

“Choose one?” Neela gripped a lock of hair tightly and frowned down at the papers in front of her. She mouthed a few words that Misaki couldn’t make out, as if testing out the feel of them. At last, she took the pen and printed a word in English letters, then signed next to it in a script that Misaki thought might be Arabic. She signed all three documents that way, then stacked them together and handed them back to Misaki.

“ _Aisha,_ ” Misaki read, wondering if she was pronouncing it correctly.

Neela - _Aisha_ \- nodded; but she didn’t offer an explanation.

Misaki decided not to ask if there was any kind of special meaning to the new name, though she was curious. Instead, she replaced the papers in her folder and held out her hand. “Welcome to the team.”

The contractor looked at the her proffered hand for a moment, then cautiously reached out and shook.

“I’ll have Memoto start the discharge process,” Misaki said as she stood. “Then we can head to the office and get started.” The sooner they got out of this horrible place, the better.


	11. Chapter 11

Misaki returned to the lobby to wait for Neela - damn, _Aisha_ \- to complete the official release process. She had expected the contractor to accept the offer, but there was no way of knowing whether she would honor the terms at all. There was a lot at stake in this investigation; this decision had better be worth it.

The guard at the front desk asked her twice if she wanted a seat, as if she couldn’t see the two plastic chairs right in front of her; but Misaki was too keyed up to sit. Instead, she paced around the room while she waited. Every little sound made her jump. The central heat kicking on; a cough from the guard. She kept one eye on her phone for any alerts from Astronomics, and the other on the main doors. A contractor couldn’t be both invisible _and_ walk through walls. If anyone tried to get in, she’d see them.

Finally, after a long thirty minutes, the elevator door binged open and Moriyama appeared, escorting Aisha. The contractor was no longer in her orange jumpsuit; instead she was dressed in shorts and a tank top that looked more like pajamas than anything else, with a pink baseball cap over her bushy hair and blue disposable booties on her otherwise bare feet. A couple of housekeeping magazines were clutched in her hands.

“All yours, ma’am,” Moriyama said with a bow.

Misaki nodded. “Thank you.” The guard left, and she turned to Aisha, who was gazing around the lobby as if she’d never seen it before - though she must have, through the cameras. “Are those the only clothes you have?”

The contractor looked down at herself, and shrugged. “They didn’t exactly let me pack a suitcase when I was arrested.”

Misaki frowned. “Well, here.” She took off her coat and passed it to Aisha, who stared at it uncomprehending. “You’re going to freeze out there. Come on.”

Aisha took the coat and followed Misaki out of the building and into the chill April wind. Misaki’s suit jacket offered at least a little protection, though she shivered without the extra layer.

“It’s been a cold spring; we can take you to get some warmer clothes later,” Misaki said as they headed to her car, “but first -” She broke off when she realized that Aisha wasn’t walking with her. She turned, hand going to her gun, to see the contractor standing stock still at the edge of the pavement, staring up at the cloudy sky. The coat hung limply in her arms.

“I forgot how big it is,” Aisha said, almost absently.

Misaki glanced towards the street; Saitou and Kouno were watching from Kouno’s car across from the front entrance, but Toda was out of sight. “It’s not safe to stay out in the open,” she said, relaxing slightly.

At those words, Aisha seemed to mentally shake herself. She put on the coat, and followed Misaki to her car.

“I saw you drive up in this the other day,” she said as Misaki unlocked the doors. “Is it yours?”

“Yes.”

“Can I drive it sometime?”

“No. Get in.”

The wind was mercifully cut off once they got into the car. Misaki buckled up and started the engine; after doing a quick check of the periphery, she put the car in reverse - then hit the brakes. “Seatbelt,” she told the contractor.

“What?”

“Put your seatbelt on.”

“I hate those things; I can’t move if I’m tied to a seat.”

“It’s illegal to ride in the passenger seat without a seatbelt. Put it on, or we’re not leaving.”

Aisha cast her an amused look, but complied.

“Isn’t personal safety in your best interest? It’s irrational to _not_ buckle up,” Misaki muttered, checking her mirrors once again.

There hadn’t been any word from Astronomics; HG-139 wasn’t using his powers in the vicinity. Still, she didn’t allow herself to breathe a sigh of relief as she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. She turned down the opposite direction from Toda’s car, lest he get a glimpse of her passenger. In the rearview mirror, she saw Kouno peel off and follow.

The radio suddenly burst into life. Misaki started and turned to see Aisha leaning forward and turning the tuner dial. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for music. Wow, so many stations!”

Misaki hit the dial and turned the radio off. “I don’t drive with music.”

The contractor sat back, watching the city rush past. “Is this Tokyo, then? You never said.”

“Yes. I’m sorry the weather’s not nicer; it’s usually perfect this time of year.” She felt the need to defend her city, even though Aisha hadn’t said a word against it.

“I don’t mind; weather is still weather, you know?” Aisha pressed the window button, and cold air whipped through the car. Misaki used the controls on her side to roll it back up.

“I suppose that’s true.”

“So where are we going?”

“First I’m taking you to Section Four headquarters in Shinjuku for a debriefing; then we can go get you some new clothes before I drop you off at your apartment. I went ahead and leased one for you; it’s a short term lease, so you can move if you don’t like it. But it should be fine to start with.”

Misaki was desperate to start questioning the contractor about her past work with the Syndicate, but she needed to wait until the rest of her team was there as well. _Patience_ , she reminded herself. _You_ _’ll get there eventually; one step at a time_. But ever since the Tokyo Explosion, she’d felt as if she was running against the clock, racing towards some unknown deadline that was creeping closer with every hour that passed. It was impossible for her to relax, to just…sit _._ And it made her miss Hei and his anchoring presence even more.

Aisha, however, did not seem to feel that same sense of urgency, for she spent the entire drive staring out at the city and asking questions about everything she saw. The incessant chatter was a bit annoying - Misaki had never met a more talkative contractor - but she was grateful for the distraction.

 

It was almost dark by the time they reached Shinjuku and headquarters. Misaki had been on edge for the entire drive, and took several detours and unexpected turns in an attempt to shake off any potential tail. After the second U-turn, Saitou called her cell to make sure that everything was alright.

“Just tell Kouno to stay on me as best he can,” she said, after apologizing for not warning them ahead of time. “You don’t have to pretend to not be following me, so drive as closely as you need to.” She was more careful after that to not make any abrupt changes off course. Saitou was watching for tails while Kouno drove; he’d spot anyone who was sticking with them for too long.

Despite her precautions - or perhaps because of them - they made it to headquarters with no problem. Kouno pulled into the parking space next to Misaki; he and Saitou clambered out of the car, Saitou doing his best to look like a no-nonsense detective while Kouno openly stared at the contractor. Aisha regarded them both with curiosity.

“Detective Saitou and Detective Kouno,” Misaki said, gesturing to the two men, “This is RS-334, code name Aisha.”

Saitou bowed and greeted the contractor formally; Kouno said, “Hey. I thought your name was Neela.”

Aisha shrugged. “It was.”

“Not important right now,” Misaki said. She started off towards the elevator; after a moment, the other three followed. There was plenty of room inside the car, but she couldn’t help noticing that both Saitou and Kouno had placed themselves at the furthest point from the contractor as possible - which was difficult, as Aisha had chosen the center of the back wall to lean against.

“I don’t have an access card for you yet,” Misaki told her as she swiped her own card through the elevator’s security slot and punched the number five. “The HR office is closed by now, so we’ll have to take care of that tomorrow. You don’t mind having your photo taken, do you?”

Aisha was peering at the elevator panel. “I probably don’t need a card. I can just -”

“I’d appreciate it if you only used your ability when necessary,” Misaki interrupted. “It’s going to be hard for a lot of people around here to accept that a contractor is working on their side now; let’s not draw attention to that difference any more than we have to.”

The contractor looked slightly askance, but she nodded.

Matsumoto and Ootsuka were waiting for them in the offices on the fifth floor. The Interpol team was there as well. Misaki included them in her introductions; Gmerek looked to the contractor with interest, while Francesca took an unconscious step back. Navid merely folded his arms and nodded once in recognition.

“We’ll hold the debriefing in the conference room,” Misaki said, gesturing for Aisha to go ahead of her. The contractor entered the room without hesitation, as if she was hired by national police agencies regularly. The Section Four team followed. “Navid?” Misaki asked, “Do you have time to sit in?”

Navid looked surprised to be included; but he nodded, and walked in.

When Misaki entered last, it was to see a confused-looking Aisha being shooed out of her customary seat by Saitou. “I just wanted to sit facing the window…” the contractor began.

“There aren’t any assigned seats here,” Misaki reminded them briskly as she seated herself in the vacated chair. She didn’t wait for any explanations or apologies, but rather launched right in to the process. “From now on, you’re a member of Section Four,” Misaki told Aisha. “In lieu of the usual background check that our employees are required to go through, I’d like to get your verbal history. We won’t tape anything that you say, just record notes.” She nodded to Ootsuka, who was already transcribing in shorthand.

Aisha, already slouching in her seat but gazing at the others complacently, said, “Alright.”

“First, can you confirm your Messier code, and describe your power and your price?”

“RS-334. I have the ability to communicate in binary.”

“What, like the computer language?” Kouno asked. “I thought you could see through cameras.”

“I can see through cameras that use binary.”

Matsumoto leaned forward slightly. “You said _communicate_ \- does that go two ways?”

The contractor nodded. “Depending on the system. In some cases all I can do is watch or listen, or read, but sometimes I can talk to the system itself, and change what it hears.”

“So you can manipulate it?” Misaki said, frowning. She didn’t know much about computers or networking, but that seemed like an exceptionally subtle and dangerous power. No wonder the Syndicate wanted her under their eye.

Aisha shrugged, but now there was a mischievous quirk to her smile.

“Alright - and your payment? I’m guessing it has to do with those.” She pointed to the magazines that Aisha was still holding.

Aisha looked down at her hands, slightly perplexed. “No.”

“You were walking around your cell with them on your head,” Navid pointed out.

“Right; because I’d just used my power, so I needed to pay my price.”

“But -” Navid began, clearly exasperated.

Aisha patted the baseball cap that still sat over her thick hair. “I have to cover my head. Usually I wear a hat, but they wouldn’t let me keep it in my cell.”

“So you used magazines instead,” Misaki said. “Then…why do you still have those?”

 “Hm? Oh - Moriyama told me to take all my things. I asked if I could take these, and he said he didn’t care. So I did.”

“Alright,” Misaki said, a bit confused. “Are there any particular rules or restrictions attached to your payment? Obviously it doesn’t have to be a hat, but is there any kind of time box? How long of a delay can you stand before you have to pay?” Normally this was the sort of information that Section Four might use to track or predict a contractor that they were after; but if Aisha was going to work _with_ them, it became an issue of liability.

“It’s proportional - the longer I use my power, the sooner I have to make my payment, and the longer it takes.” She patted the top of her head again. “That’s why I like to wear this; saves a lot of trouble if it’s just on all the time.”

In an interview with a normal human, Misaki would have asked questions about her early life - hometown, family, schooling, any significant events. But contractors tended to regard their lives before turning as unimportant to the point of being completely meaningless; so instead she asked, “When did you become a contractor?”

“June eighth, two thousand two.”

“And how old were you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Was the Syndicate your first employer?”

Aisha nodded. “Yeah. I was in Karachi scamming a Chinese shipping company; turned out there was a Syndicate member working for them. He caught me and told me that I could keep doing what I was doing, as long as it was what _they_ told me to do instead. Or else they would hunt me down and kill me. Seemed like a good deal, so I took it.”

“’Scamming’?” Saitou asked with a frown.

“Stealing their money,” Aisha clarified. “It was pretty easy - just tell the system to move certain small transactions _here_ instead of _there_.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t very subtle in those days; it was only a matter of time.”

“Any chance of us getting the name of this Chinese Syndicate member?” Navid asked.

Aisha shrugged again. “Sure. Ho Jong. He’s dead now, of course, so you can’t talk to him.”

“We may still be able to run down some of his connections,” Misaki said, making a mental note to pass the name on to Jouda in Section Two. Interpol might have some useful information as well. “So you’ve worked for the Syndicate since then? Eventually we’ll need a complete account of your history with them, but it’s getting late so we can wait on that. For now I want to focus on the previous year. You were arrested in Sapporo, right?”

“No; Vladivostok.”

Misaki blinked. “What?” she said, at the same time Kouno said, “Where?”

“City near the border of North Korea and China. Russia,” Aisha said.

“I know where Vladi - vas…vo…whatever - is,” Kouno muttered.

“But your arrest papers - were fake anyway,” Misaki realized. “Tsukuda probably used Sapporo for convenience, and to add another layer to the paper trail. What were you doing in Russia?”

“The Syndicate had me stationed there for a few months to monitor communications coming out of North Korea.”

“North Korea?” Saitou frowned. “Why would the Syndicate care about them?”

Misaki nodded in agreement with the question. As far as she - Section Four - knew, that country had no state-employed contractors and nothing in the way of Gate-related research.

Aisha folded her legs up sit cross-legged on the chair. Ootsuka watched her with pursed lips. “There were rumors that the military there had come across a Gate artifact, and were trying to weaponize it.”

“I suppose they didn’t want the competition,” Misaki said sourly. “Were the rumors true?”

“I don’t think so; I think it was just an excuse. What I found out after doing some digging was that a Syndicate scientist - some kind of engineer - had been a spy for the government there, and had gone back to Korea to develop Gate-based technology. Once I located him, they sent in an assassin and killed him before he could give them too much.”

Misaki thought about that, tapping her pen on her wrist absently. “If you were just doing what they told you to do, then why did they arrest you? That information doesn’t sound like anything that would be necessary to keep under wraps, in and of itself.”

“Well…I guess I got a little too curious after that. It seemed strange that an _engineer_ would be so dangerous, especially if he was in a country that didn’t have access to the Gate. So instead of listening in on just North Korea’s communications, I started talking to the Syndicate’s networks, trying to trace back to the project that he’d been working on for them.”

“I’m guessing you found it?”

“It took a long time - their networks are a huge maze, with firewalls and security systems everywhere. But I finally found a subsystem that was devoted to some project named _Jupiter_. I never had a chance to look into it though; I must have tripped some kind of alarm at some earlier point, because they sent someone to grab me.”

“Grab you?” Kouno asked.

Aisha nodded. “Right out of my chair. One minute I was sitting in my pajamas” she gestured down at her clothing “in my flat, staring at a computer screen, and then the next there was a gag in my mouth and someone was tying my hands together. I only got a glimpse of a creepy white face reflected in the monitor before a cloth bag went over my head.”

Kouno gave a low whistle, while Misaki’s grip tightened on her pen.

“Whattaya think?” Kouno asked, turning to the rest of their team. “Sound like someone we know?”

Matsumoto nodded thoughtfully; Ootsuka looked a little frightened. Saitou was steadfastedly avoiding Misaki’s eyes.

“Whether it was BK-201 or not doesn’t matter,” Misaki snapped without meaning to. “We know he worked for the Syndicate up until one month ago; right now all I’m interested in is what Aisha can tell us about them. So,” she turned to the contractor, “what happened after that?”

“The guy put me in a van and we drove; then I got transferred to what sounded like a helicopter; then a boat. They never took the bag off my head until I was inside the prison, and no one ever said anything except things like ‘keep walking’ or ‘sit here’.”

“That sounds awful,” Ootsuka said softly. Everyone turned to her.

Aisha shrugged. “I guess. It took hours and hours, and they never gave me a single thing to eat or drink until I was in my cell. But it was better than being dead.”

“That’s still awful,” the Astronomics liaison said again. She blushed and stared down at her hands. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Well,” Misaki said, “the Syndicate being awful is the reason that we’re here. Aisha.”

The contractor was staring at Ootsuka curiously. “Hm?”

“I told you at the prison that I wanted your help investigating Hourai’s murder. That’s true, but it’s only part of it - I think he was killed because he was about to give me information regarding the location of the Syndicate’s servers. That’s what we _really_ need in order to bring them down for good.” She wanted to rub her forehead in frustration; instead she settled for tapping her pen on her wrist. “When you told me that you’d been arrested for hacking into those servers, I had assumed they would be in Sapporo, since that was what your arrest papers said. But if you were in Russia…it won’t be easy to gain Russian cooperation for our investigation.”

Aisha’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, the servers were definitely in Sapporo.”

“What?” Misaki said, her heart lifting slightly.

“Well, a subnet, anyway. _I_ was in Vladivostok, but the system that I was talking to had IP addresses in Sapporo.”

“Then that’s good news, right?” Saitou asked. “Where in Sapporo are they?”

Aisha shook her head. “I didn’t try and find out; I was reading project files, not looking for the physical location of the subnet. And anyway, they kept cycling through a dozen different addresses; I would have no idea which one was right.”

“But you remember them?” Misaki asked. Her head was already hurting; she knew nothing about computer networks.

The contractor looked slightly offended. “Of course I remember them.”

Misaki nodded in relief. “Then we’ll start tracking them down first thing in the morning. We’ll have to proceed carefully; the Syndicate still has some kind of line on our activities and we don’t want to accidentally tip them off.”

“Maybe Mr. Nakahara can help?” Ootsuka suggested. “He used to be stationed in Sapporo, didn’t he?”

Misaki pressed her mouth into a thin line. She really didn’t want to bring Kaede directly into this; he had always had a habit of taking over any project, regardless of his ability. But Ootsuka was, unfortunately, right - Kaede might have some useful connections outside of the official channels that they could lean on until she felt confident in acting. She sighed. “He’s in Geneva for another couple of days; let’s do what we can on our own, then bring him in as necessary. For now, go home and get some rest - I want to start pushing tomorrow, and pushing hard.”

“Great,” Kouno said, yawning widely. “But how about dinner first - McDoness? We haven’t that in a while.”

Ootsuka shot Misaki a glance that was probably supposed to be surreptitious. “Kouno, not McDoness - we’d said we’d try and eat healthier, remember?”

A wave of guilt at Ootsuka’s emphasis on _healthier_ washed over Misaki. The team hadn’t had fast food in the office since a night several weeks ago in which Misaki, during a particularly bad bout of nausea, had snapped at them for eating garbage, then spent the rest of the evening working alone in her office.

“Order whatever you all want,” she told them now. Scents had been much less triggering in the past week; she could probably handle it as long as she didn’t eat anything greasy herself. “Just pick up a salad for me.”

~~~~o~~~~ 

Dinner turned out to be an awkward affair, with none of her team quite comfortable with chatting casually in front of the contractor yet. Aisha, on the other hand, wolfed down her hamburger as if she hadn’t eaten in months. As soon as Aisha was finished, Misaki said goodnight to her team and left with the contractor to pick up the basics at a nearby discount shopping center - toiletries, and a couple of office-appropriate outfits.

It was the longest hour Misaki had ever spent. Aisha was intrigued by everything she saw, and her fashion sense ran more towards the street than professional aesthetics. At first Misaki assumed it was just a natural reaction, after being imprisoned for over a year, but by the end of the trip she was pretty sure that that was just how the woman was.

As they walked up to the register with Aisha’s purchases, Misaki handed her an envelope. “An advance on your stipend,” she explained. “You’ll be paid monthly. It’s not a lot, but it should be enough for rent and meals. If you work well with us, I may be able to give you an increase after a few months.”

Aisha opened the envelope. “I’ve never seen Japanese money before. How does it work?”

“I’ll explain it after we pay,” Misaki said quietly. The teenage girl at the cash register was staring openly at Aisha’s odd appearance, smacking a piece of chewing gum.

“Are you alright?” the girl asked the contractor around her gum.

Aisha, who hadn’t understood a word of the Japanese, turned blankly to Misaki.

“She’s fine,” Misaki said. “She just…lost her shoes. Can you ring us up?”

“Sure. Hey, you look really familiar - you’re that cop from the news, aren’t you!” The girl glanced wide-eyed from Misaki to Aisha, looking her over once again. “Is she a - one of _them_?”

“What is she saying?” Aisha asked Misaki. “Is it not enough money?”

“She’s wondering if you’re a contractor,” Misaki said brusquely, pushing the items across the counter at the girl. This is why she hated shopping. “Will you ring us up, please? We’re in a hurry.”

The girl obliged, scanning the tags without looking away from the contractor. “My friend Mako saw this article online about contractors - it said they glow blue when they use their powers. Is that really true? Do contractors glow? Hey, what’s her power - is she dangerous? Are you taking her to prison?”

“Why would I be helping her buy toothpaste if I was taking her to prison?” Misaki snapped, exasperated.

Aisha drummed her fingers on the counter idly; the girl jumped, and stopped talking as she finished scanning the items. “I could tell the register that everything costs nothing,” Aisha said. “It would be easy.”

The statement was innocent enough, but Misaki didn’t like the suggestion in her voice. “No,” she said. “We’ll go over everything in detail at the office tomorrow, but as long as you’re working with the police, you will abide by the law. No exceptions.”

The contractor didn’t look terribly happy about that, but she didn’t comment.

At last everything was paid for; they returned to the car, Aisha with her shopping and Misaki with a massive headache. It had begun to rain when they pulled up outside the small, shabby yet tidy apartment complex.

“I know the landlady here,” Misaki said as she made a dash for the covered stairs - Aisha walked slowly behind her, staring up at the dark, rainy sky. “A lot of foreigners stay here, so you’ll be able to get by with English; but you should probably start working to learn Japanese.”

Aisha nodded, looking around her with interest. Misaki led her down to the second-to-last door and took out the key. She hesitated, casting one long look at the dark window of apartment 201; then she unlocked the door to number 202 and turned on the lights. “I’m sorry there isn’t much,” she told Aisha. “It just comes furnished with a futon and a table. But maybe you can pick up some things, brighten it up a little.”

The contractor stood in the center of the room, staring wide-eyed. “It’s…huge!” she said.

“Do you like it?” Misaki smiled sadly. The apartment was a mirror image of Hei’s, and she felt a little disoriented to be standing in it, a world that was the exact opposite of how things _should_ be. “There’s a view of the Gate out the back window, though you can’t see much of it at night.”

At the mention of Hell’s Gate, Aisha shuddered a little. “I thought I felt something strange here, ever since I was first thrown into the prison. The Gate…that makes sense.”

“Well, I’ll let you get settled. And you should get some rest; I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow morning.” She pulled a cheap cell phone from her pocket. “Here. My number’s programmed in; call if you need anything.”

Aisha nodded distractedly, already dumping her shopping out of the bags and onto the futon. Misaki set the phone on the kitchen counter. “See you tomorrow.”

“Acting Director?”

Misaki turned back. “Yes?”

“Thanks. I hope I’ll be able to help.”

She said it without any emotion; Misaki couldn’t tell if she meant the words, or was merely saying them because they were the conventional thing to say.

“I hope so too,” Misaki said. “Good night.”

~~~~o~~~~

Her own apartment was dark and empty when she arrived home. Misaki changed into her pajamas before curling up on the sofa with a hot cup of ginger tea steaming between her hands, while she listened to the rain sheeting down outside.

Her father had been released back home this afternoon after a search of his apartment had yielding nothing incriminating. She had been half expecting him to call; it shouldn’t be a big deal if they talked now that his confession was recorded and he’d been seen by the prosecutor. But - she checked her call log one more time - there had been nothing from him at all.

The ultrasound photo was still sitting out on the coffee table. Misaki stared at it without really seeing. She hadn’t realized how much she had subconsciously been depending on her father’s support and acceptance; she had Kanami, of course, but her dad was her dad - they’d done their best for each other after Yasuko had passed, and Misaki had never doubted that he would _always_ be there for her.

Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to disturb her, knowing that she was busy with her case. She flipped open her phone again, and dialed.

It rang several times, before going to voicemail. Misaki sighed, and closed her eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait for the update. Life Stuff sort of took over for a while; plus, I started working on a side project that I'm really excited about - hope to have some news to share in the next couple of months! In the meantime, enjoy the last of the setup chapters before we get into a bit of action...

**April 29, 2008**

To Misaki’s intense frustration, two weeks later her team was still researching potential leads on the Sapporo servers. The IP addresses that Aisha recalled turned out to not be linked to any sort of physical address - no doubt an intentional precaution on the Syndicate’s part. That meant that they were reduced to the old-fashioned, slow detective work of pouring over documents and records to find even the most tenuous connection.

Misaki had begrudgingly asked Kaede for his assistance after he’d returned to Tokyo; but thus far all he’d been able to do was suggest a couple of people to contact for information in the NPA’s Sapporo intelligence branch - but Misaki didn’t want to risk accidentally alerting the Syndicate to their progress until they actually _had_ some progress. What they really needed was a lead on a Syndicate member in Sapporo, someone who they could keep tabs on and use as a starting point.

But until then, Misaki was trapped in an endless cycle of the boring, mundane administrative tasks that fell to her as the Acting Director of Foreign Affairs.

_No wonder the Superintendent hasn_ _’t found a permanent replacement yet,_ she sighed to herself as she skimmed over the latest expense report from Section One. _Who the hell wants to deal with this full-time?_ In each of the past two months Section One had gone over budget by about five hundred yen. It was an insignificant amount in the grand scheme of things, but still - five hundred yen was five hundred yen. They could start paying for their own damn coffee instead of charging it to the police. Instead of signing the report, she circled the total in red ink and wrote _No_ beside it. Then she slipped the stack of paper back into its interdepartmental mail envelope, dropped it in her outbox, and pulled the next manila envelope from the waiting stack.

The return address was the offices of _Yomiuri Shimbun_. Frowning, Misaki opened the envelope and pulled out a two-page typed document. A blue post-it note was stuck to the top sheet: _For tomorrow_ _’s front page - enjoy! Toda_.

Misaki scowled and ripped the note off. Why hadn’t he just emailed her the article? _Because you_ _’ve been ignoring all his emails_ , she answered herself with a sigh. She’d agreed to a ten-minute phone conversation yesterday morning after Section Four had made the official announcement of Hourai’s death; and Toda had agreed to allow her to review the article before publication. It was in both their interests to keep the public informed without forcing the police to invoke the State Secrecy Law over a detail that was too sensitive. And Kan had made it clear to her that he wanted to avoid that if at all possible.

Idly she picked up the golf ball that she had brought back with her from Kan’s office after meeting Ito, that now lived next to her computer monitor, and spun it on the desk as she settled in to read.

_Former director of Foreign Affairs found dead in locked cell_. Misaki grimaced. The headline was obnoxious, but unfortunately accurate. She read on.

_On April 11, the body of Hourai Yoshimitsu, 62, was discovered hanging in the shower of his cell in the super-maximum security prison in Saitama Prefecture. Hourai was under investigation for his apparent leadership in the Syndicate, his role in the attempted genocide of contractors, and the murder of Pandora director Eric Nishijima._

_Although the cause of death appears to be suicide, officials are treating the incident as a potential homicide. Kirihara Misaki, acting director of Foreign Affairs and Hourai_ _’s protege, is leading the investigation._

_When questioned whether or not her former superior might have been the victim of contractor violence - for how else could an intruder have penetrated such a secure facility - Kirihara responded,_ _“There is no direct evidence to suggest so thus far. But if such evidence exists, we’ll find it.”_

_When pressed for further details, she added,_ _“Contractors aren’t magic. They interact with the physical world just like you or I do, and leave evidence just like you or I would.”_

_Hourai had served with the police for nearly forty years, and was the first and - until his arrest - only director of Section Four of the Foreign Affairs department since its formation ten years ago. Could a contractor holding a grudge against the former director have seen his imprisonment as an opportunity to act?_

_“Contractors don’t hold grudges,” Kirihara said._

_Kirihara had visited the prison and conversed with Hourai the morning of his death. While she refused to disclose the details of that conversation, it would not be too far of a leap to presume that her visit may have been the impetus for the murder - or suicide. Kirihara declined to comment on that subject._

_An independent team from Interpol has been tasked with the investigation of the Syndicate and their links to the National Police Agency; this team is being consulted on Hourai_ _’s death, as it may have significant ramifications for their investigations and the actions of whatever Syndicate members remain at large in Japan and elsewhere in the world._

_Indeed, a further shake-up occurred the day after former director Hourai died, when Kirihara Naoyasu, 55, Superintendent of the Bureau of Criminal Investigation and thirty-year veteran of police, was arrested after confessing to involvement with the Syndicate._

_When questioned as to whether or not Kirihara Misaki was the right person to be leading this investigation, considering that the mentor she arrested is now dead and her own father is facing charges of corruption and criminal conspiracy, PSB Superintendent Kan would only say,_ _“Acting Director Kirihara has shown exemplary initiative in bringing the Syndicate out of the shadows thus far, and I am sure that she will continue to do so.”_

_For more stories of contractor-related violence, see pages 2 and 4; for an update on Interpol_ _’s investigations into the UK and Russian Syndicate branches, see page 5 of International News._

Misaki continued staring at the last lines of the page long after she’d read them; a brisk knock on her office door brought her back to the present. “Come in,” she said, and Kaede entered. His jovial expression turned wry at the look on her face.

“What’s eating you?” he asked, shutting the door behind him and striding to one of the two chairs in front of her desk.

Misaki snorted and tossed the pages down on her desk in disgust. “Nothing,” she said irritably. Realizing that she was now gripping the golf ball so hard that it was leaving an impression in her hand, she forced her fingers to relax. “Just Toda’s new article.”

Kaede leaned forward and picked up the document. “It doesn’t look so bad,” he said, scanning the text. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Declined to comment?”

“Oh, I commented. Toda apparently decided that my language didn’t meet the standards of his precious paper.”

Kaede laughed, annoying Misaki even further. “Well, there’s nothing here that’s factually inaccurate, is there? And nothing that could comprise your investigation?”

“No,” she admitted grudgingly. “I’ll have to let him print it as-is. I just wish he would stop glorifying Hourai and vilifying contractors.”

“I think you’re reading too much into it; you’re just annoyed that you don’t come across as a shining paragon of virtue. And you know perfectly well that everyone is asking those same questions - you’ve asked them yourself. This is just further confirmation that Kan has your back, whether you want to believe it or not.”

Misaki scowled at him. Kan had certainly done an excellent job thus far of walking the fine line of supporting her without committing to her - if things went well, he could claim that he’d been right to trust her. If the investigation blew up in her face, he could just as easily point to his vague statements as evidence of caution on his part. “Was there a reason for your visit? I have quite a lot of paperwork to do this morning.”

“Actually, I wanted to get an update on how your new employee is coming along.”

Misaki raised an eyebrow. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Why not? It’s a fascinating experiment.” When Misaki continued to gaze at him skeptically, Kaede continued, “And, I had a casual chat with Zaro this morning; he was curious, but I couldn’t tell him much, because I don’t know much.”

“Alejandro Zaro? The deputy commissioner-general for the UN?” Misaki leaned back in her chair. “You two have been quite buddy-buddy since the Geneva summit.”

Kaede merely shrugged. “Contractors are first and foremost in everyone’s minds these days, and the UN has a vested interest in the investigations here in Tokyo.”

“So you told him about Aisha?” Inwardly, Misaki was fuming. She’d wanted to keep that information from the public for as long as possible - or at least until the experiment, as Kaede put it, had proved successful. When she could show the world that a contractor could be a valuable member of a law enforcement team, hopefully other countries would consider following suit.

Kaede held up a hand. “No, I didn’t - he’d heard about it internally; from someone with connections to the Interpol team, maybe.”

Misaki had to force herself to loosen her grip on the golf ball yet again. She really ought to invest in one of those stress relievers - every little thing seemed to set her off lately. “Who I hire for my team has nothing to do with Interpol’s investigation - they can’t - “

“I know,” Kaede said, holding up his hand once again. “But there’s no such thing as a leak-free department; you ought to know that by now.”

Misaki sighed, defeated. “I know. It’s just irritating.” She spun the golf ball on the desk, watching as it rolled into a stack of papers. “Well, if you want to know how Aisha’s doing, we can head down and talk to her.”

For some reason this suggestion seemed to startle Kaede. “Talk to a contractor?” he asked, blinking.

“Of course.”

He blanched. “Well, I’m sure she’s busy…”

Misaki snorted. “Don’t be such a baby, she’s perfectly friendly.”

Kaede brushed a piece of lint from his lapel self-consciously. “I don’t want to upset her with a visit.”

“She’s a member of my team, not a zoo animal.”

“I have an appointment across town to get to - another day, perhaps.” He smiled, but Misaki could see a hint of nervousness.

“It’s up to you,” Misaki shrugged; she glanced at the clock. “Well, I’ll walk you out - it’s about time for me to head downstairs for an update anyway.”

If this was how everyone in the government was going to react to the idea of working with contractors as colleagues, there wasn’t much hope for an integrated society, Misaki thought despondently as they headed down the hallway to the elevators. “Did Zaro have any detailed information about Aisha - what exactly did he ask about?” she asked.

The elevator doors pinged open as Kaede shrugged. “He’d just heard a rumor that there was a contractor working with Section Four - I don’t think he knew anything more than that. All I told him was that yes, there was, and as far as I knew she seemed to be getting along well. That’s it.”

“Well, that’s not too bad, I suppose,” Misaki mused, jabbing the button for the fifth floor. “But I don’t want you telling him - or anyone - any more than that. I need to keep Aisha’s involvement quiet, away from the Syndicate’s ears.”

Kaede nodded. “Of course.” He paused awkwardly for a moment, then said, “How’s your dad holding up?”

Misaki stared forward at the dull gray metal of the elevator doors. “Fine, I guess.” He’d finally answered one of her calls a few days ago; the conversation had been short and impersonal. When she’d asked if he wanted her to stop by for a visit, he’d claimed to be too tired from his discussions with his lawyers. Misaki wasn’t sure what he was more upset with her for - pushing him to turn himself in, or her own situation.

“Oh. Well, good.” Another awkward pause. “I wouldn’t have guessed him for a Syndicate member.”

“Yeah. Me either.”

The elevator thankfully arrived on her floor; Misaki excused herself from Kaede and headed into the access-only offices of Section Four.

As usual, there was a clear line of division between the two police groups. Navid and Francesca were hunched over their computers, backs to Section Four’s side of the room, while Captain Gmerek had ensconced himself at a cubicle in the far corner, speaking low and intently on the phone.

And, as usual, the members of Section Four were clustered around their own cubicles, chatting. The only concession that they were making to the presence of Interpol was to lower the volume of their voices - but only slightly. Aisha was seated just next to the group, staring intently at a cell phone in her hand. She had yet to master the concept of professional dress, Misaki noted at the sight of the contractor in jeans and a knit shirt covered in pattern of colorful hearts, along with her ever-present pink baseball cap.

“Yeah, but it’s weird, right?” Kouno was saying.

“Well,” Matsumoto mused, “it’s not like we track these things normally; it may only look strange because we’re paying attention. Just because you see a pattern doesn’t mean one exists.”

“I’m with Matsumoto on this one,” Saito put in. “There’s nothing here that points to a contractor.”

“What doesn’t point to a contractor?” Misaki asked; everyone except for Matsumoto and Aisha jumped.

“Just a wild theory of Kouno’s -” Saito began as Kouno said, “Someone breaking into all the city’s pharmacies.”

Misaki folded her arms. “One at a time. Matsumoto?”

The older man took a sip from his coffee mug. “A buddy of mine had mentioned that there’ve been a couple of reports about someone breaking into pharmacies around Shinjuku. So far no one’s reported anything stolen, and there haven’t been any signs except for things like a broken window, or forced entry. Kouno thinks they’re related to that tip we got a while back on the contractor hotline.”

“Which didn’t pan out,” Saitou interjected.

“Probably because they didn’t want to report what was stolen! I’m telling you, it’s an underground drug ring,” Kouno said.

“Even if it is, that has nothing to do with contractors.”

“We don’t know that. They could -” Kouno broke off when Misaki held up her hand.

“Do we have any data on how many of these break-ins there have been, or whether they line up with any contractor activity?” she asked.

Her team exchanged glances, then shook their heads.

“It’d take a couple days to go through all the B&E reports,” Matsumoto said.

“And if there isn’t a narrow time window,” Ootsuka added, “the star data won’t be much use.”

“I can scan the system for reports,” Aisha said mildly, without taking her eyes from the phone. “What’s a _milf_ \- that’s not English. Is it Dutch?”

Kouno lunged across the desk and snatched the phone out of her hand. “It’s nothing,” he laughed nervously.

“You text it a lot,” Aisha said. “It must -”

“Aisha,” Misaki said sternly, “I’m adding _going through colleagues_ _’ personal items without permission_ to the list. How long will it take you to go through the B &E reports?” She was still a bit leery about letting the contractor into the police databases, but thus far Aisha had proved to be a minor yet important help in collating information on EPR members from the star report archives and hadn’t yet abused her privileges. Still, Misaki was keeping a close eye on her.

Aisha appeared unaffected by Misaki’s rebuke. “Maybe an hour. Depends on how far back you want me to look.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look at the past month or two; since we don’t have any progress on the server location.” Misaki hadn’t meant that as a criticism, but her team all took on slightly dejected looks at the statement. “Ootsuka, any new activity from HG-139?”

The Astronomics liaison shook her head. “Some occasional low-level activity pops up above the signal noise, but nothing big.”

“But he’s definitely still in town?” She sighed at Ootsuka’s nod. “Well, maybe we’ll get lucky and the doll network -”

“Director, may I interrupt for a moment?”

Everyone’s expressions turned frosty at Francesca’s question. Misaki turned, annoyed, to where the red-haired star analyst was seated on the other side of the room. “Of course - what is it?” She kept her voice level, but stayed where she was.

When it became clear that Misaki wasn’t going to come to her, Francesca rose from her chair and crossed over to the cluster of Section Four members, a sheaf of papers in her hand.

“Preliminary star reports from Interpol’s Southeast Asia center,” she said, offering the papers to Misaki. “I thought you might be interested in taking a look at the data before the weekly packet goes out.”

Misaki didn’t move to take them. “Ootsuka is our Astronomics’ liaison,” she said simply. “You can deliver them to her; thank you.”

Francesca’s lips pressed into a thin line. She shifted her arm a few degrees, so that now the sheaf was within Ootsuka’s reach. Ootsuka took it without a word, her jaw tight.

Misaki resisted the urge to rub her temples as her irritation rose once again. _If I tell everyone that I_ _’m pregnant, can that give me an excuse to slam some doors right now?_ Despite her earlier admonishment, her team was not making much effort to work congenially alongside the Interpol team. They were no longer openly hostile, but it wasn’t much of an improvement. And Misaki was at a loss as to how to force a friendly interaction.

“Oh.” Ootsuka’s soft exclamation reclaimed Misaki’s attention.

“What is it?” she asked, noting the rather smug set of Francesca’s shoulders as the star analyst returned to her desk.

“The observatory in Bangkok has picked up what looks like two…maybe three dozen stars that appear to be co-localized in northern Cambodia.”

Kouno gave a low whistle. “Three dozen? We haven’t seen a gathering like that outside of a major city since Heaven’s War.”

“I recognize some of these Messier codes,” Ootsuka said, running a finger down the list. “A lot of them were involved in EPR’s attack on the Gate.”

_Interesting_. Misaki glanced across the room; seeing that Gmerek had finished his phone call, she strode over to his desk and asked without preamble, “Have you seen the report that Francesca just received?”

The Interpol captain nodded, looking grim. “I was just on the phone with the Bangkok office about it. It’s not certain that they’re actually gathering together, but there’s nothing but wilderness in that area. There’s no other reason for so many contractors to be in such close proximity, unless they’re holding some sort of meeting.”

“Are they forming another resistance group?” Navid asked.

“That’s what Director Sutabuhr is worried about,” Gmerek said, nodding his head at the phone.  “What do you think, Director Kirihara? Are we looking at another crisis in the making here?”

Misaki’s brow furrowed as she thought. “I don’t think this is another resistance group at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, before EPR, we’d never heard of contractors self-organizing before. They only did it here in order to stop the Syndicate from killing them all, and they lost their leader during the attack.” At least, that was what everyone was assuming. UB-001’s star hadn’t fallen; rather, it had simply winked out of existence at the moment the Syndicate initiated the Jupiter Ring system. Nothing like that had ever been observed before, but the general conclusion was that she had died. “From everything I heard, she was the one who was actively recruiting for her organization. Without her, without the threat from the Syndicate, I don’t know what purpose they would be gathering for.”

“But half those stars are former EPR members,” Navid said. “What else _would_ they be gathering for, if not to renew their war or avenge UB-001? After all, a number of governments are actively considering anti-contractor laws. They didn’t get the equal rights that they wanted - not yet, anyway.”

“They _won_ their war,” Misaki pointed out. “The Saturn and Jupiter systems both failed, the Syndicate has fallen apart except for one or two pockets scattered across the globe.” She noticed then that Aisha had drifted up to listen, the other members of Section Four trailing behind. “Aisha, what would you do in this situation? Say you were a member of EPR; you got what you wanted in the fight, but your side sustained heavy losses and the future isn’t exactly what you were hoping for.”

The contractor frowned, idly twisting a lock of curly hair. “I’d want to go home,” she said at last. “Except, contractors don’t have homes.”

Everyone was silent for a long moment after Aisha’s pronouncement. Then Ootsuka spoke up hesitantly. “Maybe they’re trying to make their own home?”

“That’s what I’m inclined to think,” Misaki agreed. “They’re in the jungle, far away from any city - they’re probably just looking for a place to rest, away from humans. I could be wrong; but that’s what my instinct is telling me.”

“And what about BK-201?” Gmerek asked.

Misaki’s heart skipped a beat. “BK-201?”

“This last report has him in Ho Chi Min City - or nearby, anyway,” Francesca said. “Bangkok doesn’t have the kind of resolution that your observatory has,” she added with a grudging shrug in Ootsuka’s direction. “But he appears to be heading in the same general direction as this gathering.”

His star had moved out of range of Tokyo’s observatory a week ago. Misaki was finding herself torn between the anxiety over no longer having daily updates so that she knew he was alright, and the anxiety of knowing that now other agencies had their eyes on him.

“He was a part of EPR before - if he rejoins them, rallies them to action…we could be facing another crisis here,” Gmerek said.

Misaki shook her head. “He was never part of EPR. He may have joined at the very end, to stop the Syndicate; but despite being approached by UB-001 to recruit him, he wasn’t involved.”

Gmerek raised an eyebrow. “How sure are you? Contractors are notorious for playing both sides against the other, and according to our records, BK-201 and UB-001 were teammates in South America. It would be perfectly reasonable for them to have been partners in this.”

“On the surface, yes - but whatever happened during Heaven’s War left the two of them enemies. Hei’s only goal was to take down the Syndicate.” Using his name with the police and Interpol never failed to sound strange; but Misaki hadn’t been able to think of a good excuse to leave it out of her reports on her supposed interactions with him, so she’d included it. Hourai had told it to her, after all; it wouldn’t have made sense to claim that Hei never had. “I doubt that he knew that UB-001 shared the same goal. He wanted to kill her - the reports on BK-201’s assault on EPR’s headquarters the night before the Tokyo Explosion, by myself and MI-6 agent April, bear that out.”

“Yes, I’ve read them,” Gmerek mused. “It’s fascinating - contractors don’t hold grudges, yet you say that BK-201 held one for five years…did you ever find out what the reason was?”

“He was my confidential informant; that didn’t make me his confidant,” Misaki said, hoping that no one could hear the regret in her voice. “I asked him about it once; he wasn’t willing to tell me. Maybe if he’d known would have joined them sooner.” That was a lie; Misaki doubted that anything Amber told him would have convinced him to work with her. She was at a loss as to what had finally swayed him. “UB-001 must have found a way to tell him about the Syndicate’s plan after his attack on the office building.”

“Lucky for us,” Kouno commented in the background.

Misaki nodded absently, her mind once again traveling back to the last time she’d seen Hei, before the Tokyo Explosion. Something had been weighing heavily on him, but he hadn’t confided in her. Maybe he’d known about the Syndicate’s plan already; she wished that he’d told her. No doubt he no longer trusted her after the terrible accusations she’d made the night before.

Once again, she wondered if things would have been different that night if she hadn’t been so focused on her work, and payed closer attention to herself. If she’d realized by then that she was pregnant, and had the chance to tell him. Would he have left her for the Gate? Would he have left Tokyo?

He had to leave; she knew that. She’d kept a close eye on the string of stars following his trail, and falling where they met. He was safer out there, on his own, where star tracking systems couldn’t pinpoint his location. The police couldn’t protect him in Tokyo. Misaki couldn’t protect him.

“So what’s your take, Director?” Gmerek was asking, snapping Misaki back to the present. “Is BK-201 heading to this gathering of contractors, to spur them into action or gain protection from the Syndicate’s assassins?”

It took her a moment to catch up with the conversation. She shook her head. “I would be extremely surprised to hear that he had any intention of joining any other contractors.” A group of contractors, in the jungle - it sounded like South America and Heaven’s War, a time in his life that had left him waking up from a dead sleep with nightmares and terrors almost every night. There was no way that Hei would voluntarily seek that out. “Honestly, he’s probably just looking for a place to rest, just like they are.”

Gmerek pursed his lips, but nodded. “Well, when it comes to BK-201, you’re the expert. I’ll call Director Sutabuhr and let him know your opinion, and recommend that Interpol not mobilize against this group until we know something more concrete.”

Misaki exhaled in relief as Gmerek picked up his cell phone. _I hope he doesn_ _’t have a habit of leaving that lying around,_ she thought as she returned to the other side of the room, Aisha just in front of her. _The last thing I need is an accidental breach of international security because our contractor doesn_ _’t understand the meaning of privacy_.

Then a sudden thought struck her. “Aisha,” she said.

The contractor stopped abruptly and turned, and Kouno walked right into her. He jumped back, smoothing his hair and apologizing. Aisha ignored him, intent on Misaki.

“Can you track a cell phone’s location based on past calls from another phone?”

Aisha pursed her lips, considering. “Depends on the security protocols. Most normal phones, probably. The cell signal -”

“I don’t need the technical details, I just need to know if you can do it.”

“What are you thinking, Chief?” Saitou asked.

“It might be a long shot,” Misaki said, folding her arms, “but what we really need is a concrete lead in Sapporo. The Syndicate probably has a few members there, especially if the servers are still there. And if Hourai was in contact with any of them prior to the Tokyo Explosion -”

“Maybe Aisha can find them!” Kouno exclaimed.

“The data analysts went over the call logs from his phone; we’ve already gone through those contacts,” Matsumoto said.

“But data analysts can’t talk to a cell tower,” Aisha pointed out. “I can. Do you have the phone? I can try right now.”

Misaki nodded, a sliver of hope emerging in her mind. “Put everything else on hold until you get as much information as possible from his cell phone. It’s in the evidence locker - I’ll go sign it out.”

_One lucky break_ , she thought as she hurried towards the elevators. _That_ _’s all we need._ One thing had to go right in her life. Just one thing - then everything else - the Syndicate, her father, Hei, the pregnancy - would fall into place.

At least, she could keep telling herself that.


	13. Chapter 13

**May 2, 2008**

"Yes, but do _you_ have to be the one who goes - that's all I'm asking," Kanami said, her worry evident even over the noisy chatter inside the plane cabin and the poor connection of the call.

Misaki shifted her grip on her cell phone so that she could heft her overnight bag onto her shoulder. "Saitou can hold down the fort in Tokyo for a few days," she said. "And I promised the superintendent that I would keep a close eye on Aisha - I can't do that if she's in Sapporo with no one but Kouno to babysit her." Kouno and Aisha were somewhere closer to the front of the cabin; she hadn't been able to get them all seats together on such short notice.

"It's not Section Four that I'm worried about."

Misaki sighed and dropped her voice, though none of the other passengers were paying her any attention as they gathered their belongings and pressed towards the cabin door to deplane. "It was only a little spotting; the doctor said everything's fine."

"But will it be fine next time? You keep pushing yourself -"

"Because this is important," Misaki interrupted, pushing aside the memory of the small red stain on her underwear after her morning swim the other day. She'd called Kanami in a panic, but it had turned out to be nothing. There'd been no reason to make her friend worry, and she was still feeling guilty over it. "After what the Berlin team found in that German Syndicate cell's records this week, we can't afford to let _any_ of them slip through our fingers - they're a threat to public security, not just to contractors. The hierarchy was based here in Japan; if we can take them down, the smaller cells won't survive."

"Not the point, Misaki," her friend said, all too accurately. "Look, I know I can't talk you out of this - and judging from those announcements in the background, you're already on your way to Sapporo - but just be careful. Please. You don't always have to be the person who charges in and takes all the risk on herself."

"I'm not trying to be like that! It's just - this is the only way I know how to be," Misaki said quietly, guilt swirling through her stomach. She followed the crowd of other passengers towards the baggage claim, though her brisk pace soon had her passing most of them.

"I know, and I love you for it." Someone on the other end of the line said something unintelligible; Kanami replied, "Just a sec, hon," then continued to Misaki, "Just take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will. Give me a heads up if anything changes in HG-139's status."

"Hana and I are taking the weekend off for a romantic staycation, remember?" her friend said. "Mizuta's on duty; but I left him clear instructions. Don't worry."

Shit, she _had_ forgotten. Misaki disliked the idea of depending on anyone except for Kanami when it came to star alerts; but Mizuta was perfectly capable, and she wasn't about to ask her friend to interrupt her personal life in order to monitor a computer screen all weekend - though she knew that if this trip to Sapporo hadn't been so spontaneous, Kanami would never have taken the time off.

Kouno and Aisha had found Kaede near the street exit; Misaki waved at them and headed over. "I won't worry - don't worry."

It was a terrible joke, but Kanami laughed anyway. "Alright. Well, good luck on your case; see you when you get back."

"Sure - have fun on your date," Misaki said as she reached her team, then ended the call.

Aisha was gazing around the terminal interestedly, while Kouno wore an uncharacteristic exasperated expression. Kaede stood off to the side, staring at his phone and pointedly ignoring them.

_I'm not even going to ask_ , Misaki sighed to herself, then addressed Kaede. "Did you get everything set up with Intelligence?"

He nodded, looking relieved at her arrival. "I left my car at the curb; we'll head over to your hotel so you can all get freshened up. Then I'll call the station chief at Hokkaido Police Headquarters and get things moving from there."

Misaki hadn't wanted to ask for help from Kaede, but her barging in to Hokkaido's Criminal Investigations branch to interview one of their officers would send up too many warning signs that someone from the Syndicate might pick up on; coordinating with Section Four's local branch would have been ideal but even more of a red flag to anyone keeping tabs on her. One of Kaede's old contacts had been able to set up a discreet meeting. She just hoped that it was quiet enough.

She shifted her bag as Kouno and Aisha picked up theirs and they followed Kaede out to the busy pick-up area where an airport security officer was eying a blue Toyota with obvious displeasure. The Toyota was double-parked - but with government plates, there wasn't much the man could do about it.

"There's no need to go to the hotel first," Misaki said, throwing her bag in the Toyota's trunk with the others. "I want to get started right away." Behind her, she heard a disappointed sigh, which she ignored.

Sapporo was chillier than it had been in Tokyo; Misaki was glad she'd remembered her jacket. She shrugged it on and climbed into the passenger seat as Kouno and Aisha piled into the back.

Kaede looked irritated at her pronouncement, but he didn't argue as he slid behind the wheel. "It's your show," he said. "I'm just here to facilitate."

"Kouno, do you have the file on Officer Tou?" Misaki asked. The city of Sapporo sped past her window, but she'd been here before and didn't pay it any attention. Instead, she was picturing the pages of the file in her mind; she'd read over it several times already, but now that they were here, it was important that they didn't miss any details.

The sound of a case being unzipped came from the back seat, followed by the rustle of paper. "Tou Kimiko," Kouno read after a moment. "Age forty-two; twenty-year veteran of the NPA. She spent most of her career in Traffic Enforcement, basically as a meter maid, before transferring to Sapporo's Criminal Investigation Division unit four years ago"

_The same division that my father oversees_ , Misaki couldn't help thinking. She was sure that the others had made the connection as well, but they would never -

"Hey, isn't your dad the boss of that?" Aisha said.

Misaki crossed and uncrossed her ankles. "Yes." He hadn't admitted to organizing or recruiting other members into the Syndicate, and as a superintendent, hundreds of officers fell under his purview. It was just a coincidence. "Kouno, what else?"

"Uh, her phone. Yeah, the phone that Aisha traced from Hourai's encrypted call log is registered to Tou. It received five calls from Hourai in the past year, the last of which was the day before the Tokyo explosion. Each call coincided with a moderate deposit in her bank account from an international holdings company that Tou has no connection to that we can find. Similar sporadic payments have occurred over the previous four years."

"When did you get a warrant to look into her bank account?" Kaede interrupted.

Misaki crossed her ankles again. "I didn't have time to get an official warrant," she said. "This was just some preliminary digging."

"I hacked into her account," Aisha said.

"You -"

"Keep your eyes on the road!" Misaki snapped when Kaede started to turn towards the back seat. He caught himself and stared out the windshield, frowning. "We'll go the official route once we have something solid to go by," she continued. "Right now there's no precedent for admitting contractor-obtained evidence in court. I'll talk to this officer, see what she gives me that I can take to a judge for a warrant."

She still wasn't entirely comfortable with that plan - despite the fact that it was her own, and Superintendent Kan had signed off on it - but they'd hit a complete dead end in the investigation. If contractors were going to integrate into society, these considerations would have to come into play eventually; but in the meantime, she didn't have time to wait on the glacial pace of the justice system.

"What about this holdings company?" Kaede asked. "Is your contractor breaking international laws as well?"

"Navid is looking into it. Through official channels." Misaki sighed. "Back to Officer Tou - a sudden promotion into a unit that isn't known for recruiting women; not long after that, unexplained deposits begin appearing in her bank account."

"And Hourai contacted her the day before the Tokyo Explosion," Kouno said darkly.

Misaki nodded. "She was definitely doing _something_ for the Syndicate - hopefully she knows something about the servers, but there's no guarantee."

"So how are we going to play this, Chief?"

"You can't let her know that you illegally hacked into her accounts," Kaede put in as he steered the car off the freeway and onto the avenue that would take them to Hokkaido Police Headquarters.

"I know," she said. "I don't want to antagonize her, in any case."

Misaki had spent the whole flight formulating her approach; without being able to use her only piece of leverage, the situation had at first seemed impossible. Until she'd asked herself: _How would Hei handle this_? And then the answer had come to her. "We're going to be her friends," she said.

~~~~o~~~~

Kaede parked the car on the street across from the Hokkaido Headquarters and called the chief of Criminal Investigations from there. He didn't know the man personally, but an old contact at the Public Prosecutor's Office had been able to call in a favor and secured the chief's blanket cooperation with any of Misaki's requests. Or at least, the requests of an anonymous official working on behalf of Tokyo's Intelligence division.

"Don't forget, it has to be an ethernet connection," Aisha said, passing one of her laptops over to Kouno. "Wi-Fi's no good."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it."

"What's so special about that laptop?" Kaede asked, drumming his fingers on the wheel.

Aisha blinked. "Nothing. It's just a laptop."

"What, no fancy hacker gear?"

"Why would I need that?"

Kouno snorted. "Aisha _is_ the hacker gear."

Misaki saw Kaede's hands tighten around the wheel. "Ah," he said. "Right."

"Are you going to be okay waiting in the car?" Misaki asked, doing her best to not sound annoyed. "I thought you had some old colleagues in town that you wanted to catch up with."

He waved a hand negligently. "I'm meeting them for dinner, and my appointment with the prosecutor isn't until three. I don't mind hanging around in case you need anything; and I can keep an eye on the contractor."

Misaki glanced at the back seat, but Aisha was already preoccupied with setting up her other computer. "Alright," she said. "It's up to you. Kouno, let's go."

~~~~o~~~~

Officer Tou Kimiko was waiting for them in the headquarters' conference room, a shabby space filled with photos of suspects in active investigations, messy notes on dry erase boards, and stacks of files on unused chairs. It felt like every police station that Misaki had ever visited. It felt like home.

"Thanks for taking the time to meet with us," Misaki said, taking a sip of tea from the mug that the chief's assistant had kindly made for her, after getting over his surprise that their anonymous guest was the Acting Director of Foreign Affairs. Beside her, Kouno opened the laptop and unwound a long ethernet cable.

"Of course." Tou sat ramrod straight, her hands folded on the table in front of her. She was only in her early forties, but the wrinkles around her eyes and the obvious black dye in her hair suggested that she was aging prematurely. Her cheap suit was immaculately tidy, her makeup neat and careful. "I hope I can be helpful," she continued, "but I don't know how - I've never even seen a contractor before."

"Is there a place I can plug this in?" Kouno interrupted. "Chief Shimura said there was a port in here somewhere…"

"Um, yes. I think it's over here." Tou rose from the table and shifted a box of files near the wall behind Kouno's chair, revealing an internet jack. "Didn't the chief give you the Wi-Fi password?"

"Wi-Fi's busted on this one; department's too cheap to buy me a new -" Kouno broke off with a glance at Misaki. "Uh, I mean…"

Misaki waved a hand. "Budgets are tight in every department right now. We'll make do with cables and cords until we can't any longer." She turned to Tou, a friendly smile on her face. "I'm sure things are the same in Sapporo."

The older woman laughed awkwardly, clearly still uncomfortable with the surprise interview. "Yes, I suppose so."

Out of the corner of her eye, Misaki could see pages of code flashing across the laptop screen; Aisha was using her own laptop to access Kouno's and the ethernet connection to read every system that the police were plugged into. Time to get focused, she decided. "Have you been following our investigation into the Syndicate at all?"

Tou nodded. "Of course; we all have. It's appalling, the idea that some of our own superiors might have been involved in a betrayal like that." She froze suddenly, her mouth open in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean -"

"It is appalling," Misaki said, overriding the apology. "That's why my team and I are working hard to uncover any and all Syndicate members both in the police and outside, no matter who they are." She paused, mentally reminding herself to soften her tone. This wasn't an interrogation - not yet, anyway. "We're looking into an angle that Detective Kouno here dug up a few days ago. It's connected to a case you worked on previously. I was hoping you could help answer some questions about that."

Tou nodded again, her professional demeanor snapping back into place. "Which case?"

Misaki made a show of flipping through her notes. "It was in '05; your unit busted a drug smuggling ring that was based out of a local warehouse owned by Tamade Shipping Company." Was that a twitch in the woman's expression, or had she imagined it? She had to be careful here - she wanted Tou worried, not panicked.

"I remember that case," Tou said. "A wannabe mobster. He broke off from the Tamaguchi family and tried to go it on his own. He didn't last very long before we shut him down," she added with a touch of pride.

"That was one of your first cases with Criminal Investigations, wasn't it?" Misaki leaned back in her seat a little, trying to appear relaxed. She'd watched Hei work in his Li guise a couple of times; it was amazing how just a friendly smile could get people to do exactly what he wanted them to, and cheerfully at that.

"Yes, that's right - I'd just been transferred out of Traffic Enforcement."

"That must have been a satisfying promotion," Misaki said, smiling kindly.

A slight crack in Tou's serious demeanor appeared. "It was. I spent years applying for a transfer, but was denied each time on the basis of 'lack of fit', even though my skill set fit their requirements." She sniffed. "It was obvious why they didn't want me - there were no women on the squad until I joined."

"I understand," Misaki sighed. "But perseverance usually pays off in this kind of situation."

"It was Superintendent Kirihara who made the difference, I think," Tou said, and Misaki's grip on her tea mug was suddenly white-knuckled. "He was leaning hard on all of the department heads to start hiring more women. Probably because you set such a good example."

_Please don't bring my father into this_ , Misaki silently prayed. She didn't want to consider the possibility that he might be implicated in more than he'd already confessed to. "I wasn't trying to set an example," she said. "I just want to do the best that I can."

Tou nodded in understanding. "Police work has always been my passion; I know it's a dangerous job, but I want my son to be proud of me for doing it well."

"You have a son?" Misaki asked, feigning interest. "How old is he?"

"Thirteen," Tou said fondly. "He looks more like his father every day."

Something twisted in Misaki's gut, but she ignored it. "What does your husband think of you having such a risky job? I've had so many dates end on the first night as soon they find out what I do for a living." Beside her, Kouno tried unsuccessfully to cover up a choking cough.

Tou's laugh didn't reach her eyes, however. "He knew it made me happy, so it didn't bother him. But he passed away a few years ago; I've raised our son on our own since then."

Misaki knew this perfectly well; the file that her team had put together on Tou was thorough. However, she was caught completely off guard when Tou asked, "Do you have children, Director?"

"What? No," Misaki stammered.

"Well, when you do, you probably will keep working, no matter how dangerous things get, won't you? We have to do dangerous things, sometimes, to keep them safe."

"I suppose so," Misaki said quietly. She cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable. The personal discussion had done its work of helping Tou soften up, but Misaki had no interest in carrying that topic any further. "Back to Tamade Shipping - we're beginning to think that that company might have a tenuous connection to the Syndicate. A few months ago my team was investigating a case in which an employee - a truck driver - was targeted by a contractor."

Kouno had been the one to make that connection, after digging up the information that Tou's late husband's IT company had done work for Tamade. Misaki had never asked Hei about the KV-464 case, and now she was kicking herself over it - how could she have neglected such a potentially important detail?

But the case had seemed straightforward at the time: the Syndicate wanted KV-464 in order to study and manufacture the toxin that was part of his power; Huang had basically said as much that night she'd been captured and held in their safe house basement. Once he was out of play, she'd been too preoccupied with the questions surrounding Hei to spend much energy on the other contractor. Why _had_ he been targeting the people that he had?

A possible answer had come from Park Tae-hee, the truck driver. KV-464 had targeted him, but BK-201 had killed him. Misaki remembered the question that Matsumoto had posed that night: if both contractors had been after Park, why hadn't Hei simply let KV-464 kill him, rather than get into a fight? But the fact was that Park had been killed _after_ he'd been placed in police custody, out of KV-464's reach. The Syndicate wanted KV-464 alive - and Park dead, rather than let him talk to the police.

And what could Park possibly have told the police that the Syndicate wanted kept secret - unless it was information about the Syndicate themselves. That was why Hei had been after KV-464 in the first place, she was sure of it: the contractor had been targeting Syndicate members. The list of his victims was now a list of new leads; Matsumoto and Saitou were pursuing them back in Tokyo. When Kouno had made the connection between Tou, Tamade Shipping, and Park, Misaki knew that they must be on the right track.

"We have reason to believe that the driver was a low-level employee for the Syndicate," she continued. "He started working for Tamade shortly before your bust. Ultimately he was cleared of any implication in the drug ring; but I can't help thinking that where there's one connection, there might be more." She folded her arms and gazed at the ceiling, as if merely speculating out loud. "We know that Tamade has three warehouses here in Sapporo; I was wondering if, during the course of your investigation, you had noticed anything that didn't line up with the official books, that couldn't be explained by the mafia's presence."

Tou was fidgeting with a pen now. "Like what?"

"Like, for example, payments that don't make sense. Tamade is a national company; they don't have any international contracts, but money coming in from outside Japan would be a red flag."

"I don't recall anything like that," Tou said, her jawline tight. "I'd have to look up my old notes to be sure."

"Would you mind doing that?" Misaki asked with a sympathetic smile. "I hate to add any extra work to your load, but this may turn out to be vital to our investigation." What she _really_ wanted to do was raid all three of Tamade's Sapporo warehouses; but so far she had no legal justification to do so - and thus no resources. A coordinated raid would take far more than her small team.

"Of course," Tou said after a moment's hesitation. "But - well, what kind of connection would the Syndicate have to a shipping company? I admit I don't know anything about the Syndicate beyond what I've read in the news reports and the interdepartmental memos, but they weren't involved in any sort of trafficking or smuggling, were they?"

_Careful_ , Misaki warned herself. _She needs to feel like it_ _'s the Syndicate who's in trouble, not herself._ "No, they aren't. What the Syndicate traded in was information - data. And they needed somewhere to store it long-term. I suspect that they might be using one of Tamade's warehouses to store their servers. It's only a hunch at this point - I don't have enough evidence to raid any of their locations, or even to lean on the CEO. And if they are using the site, then surely the CEO would know about it, and I don't want to tip him off before I'm ready to make a move." She shrugged. "If they're even involved, that is."

"Right now it isn't looking like it," Kouno put it.

"But I have to follow every lead," Misaki added. "That's why anything that you can recall from your previous investigation will be of help."

"I'll go back through my notes," Tou said. "And ask around, see if anyone else from the team can add anything."

"Thank you," Misaki said. "Here's my card, in case you do think of something. I'll be in town for two more days. Can I get your number as well, in case I think of another question?"

Tou nodded, and Kouno wrote down the number. It was the same as the one that Aisha had tracked from Hourai's phone, Misaki noted.

"Well, I think that's - oh, excuse me," she said, as her phone rang right on cue. "I have to take this. Kouno, can you finish up here? I'll meet you outside."

Excusing herself from the table, she strode through the station and out into the main lobby, walking quickly lest she run into someone from Foreign Affairs. "Did you get what we needed?" she asked into the phone as she exited the building.

"It was a pain in the ass, but I think so," Aisha answered. "I couldn't read half of it."

Misaki glanced up and down the street before crossing to Kaede's car. A cold breeze was kicking up; she shivered despite her jacket. "Kouno and I will help you go over whatever you were able to download."

She climbed into the passenger seat, ending the call as she did, and turned to Aisha. "But from what you _could_ read, what did it look like?"

The contractor shrugged. "The energy usage of all three warehouses has been more or less stable for the past six months. I did notice something weird though."

"What?"

"The one near the airport. It draws the most power usually, because it handles refrigerated stock. But the trucks that are routed in and out of there aren't classed for refrigeration. I think that's what it says, anyway. Not all their records are online, and I still can't read all of the Japanese," she said, an edge of frustration appearing in her voice. Aisha had been making a lot of progress with spoken Japanese, and could recognize characters, but was having quite a bit of trouble linking the two.

"Why are you talking about warehouses?" Kaede asked. "I though you were hacking into police records."

"We're trying to narrow down which of Tamade's warehouses to check into," Misaki said. "I thought that data from the electrical company might help, but Aisha can't access it directly, not without being connected to the system itself."

"I can," the contractor put in, almost defensively. "But it would take about ten times as long." She'd explained the technical details, but Misaki hadn't been able to follow at all.

"The headquarters building uses the same company; I thought Aisha might be able to use the billing system to get into their databases. And it worked," Misaki said, nodding at the contractor.

Kaede frowned at that, but he didn't say anything. A moment later, Kouno opened the back door and dropped into the car.

"Damn, Chief, you're pretty scary when you're nice," he said without preamble.

She shot him a glare, but he only grinned.

"That's more like it."

Misaki snorted. "Did she give you anything more?"

He shook his head. "Nah, not really. She just asked me what it was like working under you, and investigating contractors."

"Just out of curiosity?"

"It did seem as if she was trying to feel out how much trouble she might be in, if you caught her doing something she shouldn't be. Asking how hard you were on Hourai and, um, Superintendent Kirihara. That sort of thing. But I don't know, I could be reading too much into it." He hesitated. "You know, with Hourai dead, could be that no one's giving her orders anymore. We can lean on her all we want, but if she has nothing to give…"

Misaki sighed. She found herself almost wishing that that was true, even if meant another dead end to the investigation. If Tou didn't have a handler to report to any longer, she had no one to contact that they could track. That would mean working on her to turn herself in…which meant leaning on her family. And that was the last thing that Misaki wanted to do. She actually liked Tou, completely against her natural inclination - which was to label her _traitor_ rather than _officer_.

_This is what happens when you care_ , she thought to herself sourly. _How did Hei manage to live like this for so long?_ He always claimed that he didn't actually care, that he was just putting on an act; but she knew it was a lie. At least they had a potential lead in the warehouse now; she was anxious to get to the hotel and start going over the data. "I know. We'll see what -"

"She's texting," Aisha said suddenly.

Misaki spun in her seat. "Who to?"

Aisha held her phone cupped in her hands; both phone and contractor were surrounded by a pale blue glow. "I don't recognize the number. It says, _Just had a visit from Kirihara. Asking about Tamade_."

"Damn, Chief, looks like you were right!" Kouno said.

"We all pulled this one together," Misaki said distractedly. "Aisha, can you track back -"

"No," the contractor said testily. "I can monitor one phone's activity, or I can trace the number of the other phone. I can't do both at the same time. Not unless I have a break first; I'm tired."

"Tired?" Kouno frowned. "You're making your payment, aren't you? Can't you keep using your power as long as you're wearing your hat?"

"Technically. But it's like, even if you're running a marathon, and you keep eating…you have to stop running sometime, right? You can't run forever. I can't use my power forever, it's…I can do more if I have a break." She rubbed her temple as if she had a headache.

"Just focus on Tou's phone for now," Misaki said. They'd been relying quite a lot on Aisha's ability in the past few days; it hadn't occurred to her at all that she might be under a strain because of it. "Let's see what sort of reply she gets first, before worrying about who sent it."

They sat in silence, the long minutes stretching out before them. Aisha remained focused on the phone, but she passed Kouno her laptop so that he could try and decipher the data that she'd pulled from the electric company records. Kaede fiddled with his own phone; from time to time he would glance over at Misaki, as if he wanted to say something - but he never did.

Misaki, for her own part, was finding it hard to focus. Her mind kept drifting back to her interview with Tou, wondering what it must have been like to try and raise her son on her own, after losing her husband. It couldn't have been easy. She sighed to herself. An unexpected but long sought-after promotion from someone high up in the police hierarchy, the promise of extra income to help support her child; whoever had recruited Tou had probably had an easy job of it. Misaki wanted to blame her for succumbing to the temptation, for being weak enough to abuse the trust the public was putting in her as an officer of the law - but she found that she couldn't.

It was frustrating as hell.

"Here's a reply," Aisha said, her quiet voice breaking into the silence at last. " _Don_ _'t talk. Meet at usual place 22:00. We'll take care of it."_

"That's not ominous at all," Kouno muttered. "I wonder where the usual place is?"

"I suppose we'll find out," Misaki said. "Let's all go to the hotel and have a rest. Aisha, when you're up to it start tracing that other number. We've got until eleven tonight to figure out our next move."

The hotel wasn't far from the police station; they made the short trip in silence. Kaede pulled up under the portico to let them out before he headed off to do errands of his own.

"We'll need the car tonight," Misaki told him as Aisha and Kouno started unloaded the trunk. "If I drop you off at your dinner, can you catch a ride back with one of your friends?"

"Sure," he said, staring straight ahead through the windshield.

Misaki nodded her thanks; she started to open the car door, but he said, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"What is it?" She was anxious to get up to her room and start going over the details of what they knew so far; anything to get a jump start on their next strategy.

Kaede drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, seeming to consider his words. "I just wanted to warn you to be careful."

Misaki resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "This isn't exactly my first operation -"

"That's not what I mean. I mean, be careful with your methods."

"What are you talking about?"

He sighed. "Look, when I knew you in school, you stood by the letter of the law, no matter what. Your goal was to help people by upholding justice, and truth, and all those other platitudes. Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded ridiculously naive, but you believed it, and you've stuck by that your whole career. It's why you've gotten so many people on your side against the Syndicate - you're incorruptible, and everyone knows it. The Syndicate were fools if they honestly thought that they could ever recruit you. But lately…I think you've been spending too much time around contractors."

"Kaede, I know you don't like contractors, but -"

"But you're starting to think like them. Bending the law here and there, justifying the means as long as it benefits your investigation."

"That's not what I'm doing," Misaki said quietly, but the twist in her heart told her that he might have a point. And he didn't even know the half of it.

"Be careful. Because if you're not, this case is going to swallow you whole, and you aren't going to like the person who emerges on the other side. That's all I'm saying."

Misaki didn't know what to say to that; but she was saved from answering by the buzzing of her phone. She pulled it from her pocket - and her heart skipped a beat at the message on the screen. " _Shit_."

"What is it?" Kaede asked worriedly.

An involuntary shiver ran down her spine. "An alert from Astronomics - HG-139's star has shifted out of Tokyo's local sphere, and into Sapporo's. He's either on his way here, or he's here already. God damn it; so much for doing things quietly."


	14. Chapter 14

“Acting Director Kirihara Misaki, Public Security, Foreign Affairs,” Misaki rattled off, holding her badge and ID up to the startled airport guard when he opened the door to the security office. “Captain Yagame should have radioed ahead.”

“Uh, yeah,” the potbellied man said, looking her and Aisha over curiously. “He said you needed to see some camera footage?” The man - _Nishio_ was the name on his badge - jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the wall of black and white screens behind him.

Misaki pushed past him into the room and stood in front of the bank of screens, arms crossed and radio gripped tightly in her right hand. It was a busy Saturday afternoon at the airport, and crowds of people were rushing to and from the gates across the large, multi-storied terminal. “We may have a contractor-related situation,” she said. “Corporal…Aisha and I are going to monitor the feeds from here, while Captain Yagame and my subordinate coordinate things in the terminal.”

“Contractor? Seriously? What, uh, what should I do?”

Misaki glanced at the man; his expression was serious and professional, but she could tell that his knees were shaking beneath his uniform. “Stay here and be on hand in case we have any questions,” she said, and he relaxed with evident relief.

Aisha, meanwhile, had plopped into the chair at the central computer without any invitation and was running her fingers across the keyboard.

“Do the airlines have photo IDs attached to the tickets in their systems?” Misaki asked.

A faint blue glow appeared around the contractor. “Some of them do; I’ll start sorting through them.”

“Right. Start with Japan Airlines, they have the highest number of flights that fit our time frame. I’ll scan the monitors. We’re -” She turned to the guard, only to find him standing stock still, staring at Aisha with a look of horror on his face.

He raised a shaking hand, finger pointed at the contractor. “She...that…”

 _Damn it, I don_ _’t need this right now_. Misaki fixed a stern expression on her face. “Mr. Nishio,” she snapped, and the guard tore his gaze from Aisha to meet hers. “This woman is assisting Section Four with a vital investigation; the subject of that investigation is a dangerous contractor who is on his way to Sapporo right now, and could be landing at any minute. We may need your help with this operation, but if you are unable to take orders at this time, please leave the room and let us work.”

Nishio’s eyes widened and he snapped to attention. “No ma’am. I mean, I can help, ma’am.”

“Good.” Misaki nodded towards the screens. “We’re looking for a Filipino man - about five-six, late twenties, shaved head.”

“What flight is he on?” Nishio asked, his voice quavering only the tiniest bit.

“We don’t know. All we know is that he’s headed this way, and he’s likely on a plane.” It wasn’t much; it was practically nothing. But Misaki was sure that it was right.

Mizuta had caught HG-139’s movement out of the Tokyo sector early; the star was drifting at a velocity that he said suggested flight rather than ground movement, and Misaki trusted his judgment, as much as any such speculation _could_ be trusted.

Star movements were notoriously difficult to track and predict; while the stars followed their contractors almost as if physically tethered to them, the connection, such as it was, was tenuous at best. A contractor might be heading west across the country, while his star made an arc to the north before centering over his general location once he stopped traveling. And the further from Astronomics’ data array they moved, the less accurate the readings. HG-139 might not be headed towards Sapporo at all.

But Misaki would bet anything that he was. It was just too much of a coincidence - after weeks of no activity, HG-139 suddenly appeared to be moving towards the city where she had just interviewed a Syndicate peon regarding the servers? Hourai had died a bare hour after Misaki had asked him about the Syndicate’s data; she’d be damned if she was going to let the same thing happen to Officer Tou.

The problem was, they had zero information to go on. All they knew was that HG-139 had started to shift at twelve forty-nine, and it was a ninety-minute flight from Tokyo to Sapporo. Mizuta estimated an hour-long window surrounding the star’s movement versus the contractor’s; at worst, that gave them half an hour to get back to the airport and try to prepare for his hypothetical arrival. Misaki had called Detective Murai - the head of Section Four’s Sapporo unit - and Captain Yagame of airport security on the drive over to coordinate.

Now, all they could do was watch and wait - and hope that Mizuta’s estimations hadn’t been off. Misaki found herself wishing that Kanami was at the helm of Astronomics that weekend; she knew that when it came to star analysis, Mizuta was just as good, but still. She implicitly trusted her friend’s abilities over anyone else’s.

Misaki stared at the wall of monitors in front of her, her gaze jumping from screen to screen in search of anyone who even slightly fit the vague description that they had of HG-139. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted a bald man hurrying out of a gate - but the man was tall and thin. Not him. The airport was the busiest in Hokkaido - if Aisha couldn’t find a photo of him in the airline’s system, spotting him on the camera feeds was going to be a challenge, if it was possible at all.

Assuming that this was even the right airport. There was always the chance he would have gotten a flight into Okadama, Sapporo’s older, smaller airport; but Misaki had exactly one bet to place, and she’d placed it on New Chitose. She could only hope that she was correct.

“Will he - this contractor - be glowing too?” Nishio spoke up.

“These cameras ought to pick up any synchrotron radiation,” Aisha commented absently, the computer screen directly in front of her flipping through image after image of tickets and passenger IDs.

“But if he does use his power, we’ll only get a glimpse of it before he disappears,” Misaki said. “If we’re lucky. His ability is to become invisible.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Aisha clicked her tongue. “If you don’t want to see the knife coming before he guts you, sure.”

Misaki shot the contractor a glare, but focused as she was on the screen, she didn’t see it. “Don’t worry about it,” Misaki told Nishio. “He’s unlikely to use his power or hurt anyone unless he feels trapped; my people and Yagame’s have instructions not to engage until we’re sure we can grab him without accruing any collateral damage. He -”

“Aha,” Aisha said suddenly. “Got him.”

“What? Where?” Misaki almost fell over in her haste to lean in to Aisha’s screen. A passport photo showed a bald, brown-skinned man with no eyebrows under the name of Alejandro Calbo. A mixture of relief and anxiety washed over her. “You’re sure it’s him?”

“It’s the same as the picture in his file. HG-139, code name Abo.”

 _Abo. Got you._ “What flight is he on - what time does it arrive?”

“Flight number JAL one six three. Landing…hang on; let me check the boards.”

Misaki turned back to Nishio. “I’m going to need a printout of that photo.”

He nodded, then pressed the button on the radio on his shoulder and relayed the request.

“Flight boards, flight boards,” Aisha was muttering to herself. “Stay out of traffic control…that never ends well. Ah, there he is. Landed on time at thirteen-oh-six at gate five.”

“Shit, that was ten minutes ago.” Misaki pressed the button on her own radio. “Kouno, he’s landed already; gate five, Japan Airlines flight one sixty-three. I don’t have him on the monitors yet.”

“Copy,” came the staticky response from her subordinate.

“Yagame, have your men keep an eye on the exits; Murai, stand by. _Do not engage_ ; if you spot him, radio in and keep eyes on at all times.” The last thing they needed was for him to get spooked, turn invisible, and slip away.

Damn it, she wished that she was out there with her men instead of cloistered away in the security booth. She wished that _all_ of her team were out there. Murai’s team were competent, but they lacked the firsthand experience that Misaki’s had; there just wasn’t a lot of contractor activity here in Hokkaido, and Misaki hadn’t worked with this unit often enough to get a feel for how they typically operated. Their joint operations tended more towards prisoner transfer and investigation, rather than active field work.

She tapped her fingers on the desk distractedly. Landed ten minutes ago; he might not even be off the plane yet. If he was, he’d head straight for the nearest exit - ground transportation, probably. Hopefully not the train; that would be a logistical nightmare.

Aisha had brought up the camera that showed gate five on the central monitor; Misaki spotted Kouno, hanging back with the people waiting to meet their friends and relatives. He had his phone out and was making a good show of fiddling with it rather than scanning the crowd too obviously; but Misaki knew that Abo would _have_ to be invisible to make it past him.

Passengers were still streaming through the gate; Misaki stared until her eyes watered.

"I have him," Kouno said abruptly, voice soft. "Gray jacket, blue duffel bag."

Misaki narrowed her eyes at the black and white screen, and then she spotted him: a fairly short, bald man in a high-collared jacket was striding out of the jetway, a small overnight duffel slung over his shoulder. Aisha had been right - _beefy_ was indeed the best word that Misaki could have chosen to describe him. "I see him. Stay on his tail; Murai, have your men keep eyes on him, but don't follow. We don't want to spook him."

The acknowledgments came in over the radio, but Misaki hardly heard them, she was so focused on the central screen. HG-139 - Abo - exited the frame, but Aisha immediately pulled up the feed from the adjacent camera. They watched him stride down the length of the open terminal towards baggage claim; at one point he pulled out a cell phone, but didn't appear to do anything with it other than check the screen.

It was a little unnerving, watching him walk confidently down the wide corridor: the man who had slipped into the high security facility without detection - directly behind her - was here, in front of her eyes. She remembered that stray draft that had brushed her cheek during her interview with Hourai, and barely managed to suppress a shudder.

Kouno followed several paces behind, moving with the crowd but never letting too many people get in between him and the contractor.

"Looks like he's headed towards ground transportation," Misaki muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

They watched as Abo exited onto the street through the airport doors followed shortly by Kouno; Aisha switched to an external camera. He was making for the taxi stand.

Misaki gripped her radio tightly. Try and arrest him now, with so many bystanders in the potential crossfire? Or let him get into a cab and risk losing sight of him completely?

But before she could make a decision, an empty cab pulled up and Abo climbed in.

"Get that cab's number," she ordered into the radio, dashing from the security booth. "Aisha, let's go!"

"What? Okay..." the contractor began, but Misaki had already turned back to her radio as she ran down the stairs to the main floor of the terminal.

"Murai, send a unit to follow at a distance; Kouno, get the car started but wait for me."

Misaki dashed through the crowded terminal, Aisha on her heels. She heard Murai and Yagame giving orders on the security channel, and someone replying with a license plate number; but long practice enabled her to register the information without really paying attention.

Her rain jacket flapped behind her as she flew through the exit. Kouno had the government car that Kaede had borrowed waiting at the curb, engine running. Misaki jumped into the passenger seat; Aisha had barely shut the rear door before Kouno was speeding away down the street toward the airport exit.

"Catch up to the cab," she told him, leaning as far forward as her seatbelt would allow, as if that would help increase their speed. "We'll look less suspicious approaching than one of Murai's cruisers."

"Right Chief," was all Kouno said. He floored it, and the car sped forward, weaving through the moderate traffic exiting the airport grounds.

New Chitose Airport was on the outskirts of the Sapporo metropolitan area; a good distance from downtown. They had time to tail him, but Misaki begrudged every second that flew by.

"Cab’s getting onto Hokkaido Expressway," an officer reported through the radio.

"Do you think he's headed straight for Tou?" Kouno asked, as he made the same turn onto the green, tree-lined toll road. The squad car that had called in was two cars in front of them; it slowly dropped back as Kouno accelerated, leap-frogging to take point.

Misaki could see three cabs up ahead of them, but she couldn't make out any of their plates. She gripped her radio so hard that she could feel it imprinting on her skin.

"Back off a bit," she said, and Kouno immediately slowed, keeping a silver Hyundai between them and the closest cab. "I doubt it," she said in answer to his question. "Tou's handler set a meeting for tonight; if he's targeting her, I'm guessing that's when he'll hit."

It was what Hei would do, she was sure. The target would be guaranteed to be in a specific location at a specific time, and eleven in the evening would be plenty dark to hide his actions - invisibility was fine as long as no one saw you appear or disappear and raised an alarm.

"What if he's after the servers - doesn't want to risk the chance that we'll find them at all?"

"He's not going to make it to the warehouse, if that's really where they are," Misaki said grimly. "We'll -" she began when the buzzing of her phone cut her off. She pulled it out of her pocket and flipped it open, eyes still tracking the taxis. One of them exited the freeway, and she caught a glimpse of the plate. Not the one that the officer had called in. "Kirihara."

"Chief!" It was Ootsuka. "I'm at Astronomics - HG-139 just activated."

Her stomach did a little flipflop. "Shit - he went invisible in the cab?"

Misaki leaned forward for a better look at the two remaining cabs, but a lorry changed lanes in front of them, blocking her view of both. “Damn it; Kouno -" but her subordinate was already swerving around the truck. Misaki finally caught a glimpse of the plate of the nearest taxi, two cars up and one lane to the left. There was no passenger in the back.

"That’s him!" Kouno exclaimed. 

"Unit 412," Misaki radioed, mentally recalling the call sign of the unit that was tailing behind them. "Close the distance and pull them over. Carefully; I don't want him to suspect that it's anything more than a simple moving violation."

The squad car acknowledged the order and behind them, red and blue lights flashed. Then the cruiser sped past, sirens blaring. They pulled up right on the bumper of the taxi, blocking Misaki's view of the rear seat. She ground her teeth in frustration.

The taxi came into sight again as it navigated over one lane, then took the next off ramp and exited the freeway. The squad car and Kouno followed. The driver pulled over to the side of the road; the squad car halted behind it and two officers leapt out, guns aimed at the taxi but not approaching.

Kouno screeched to a halt, gravel flying from beneath the tires; Misaki had opened the door and jumped out before the car had even come to a full stop. She drew her weapon from beneath her jacket and approached carefully; she heard Kouno doing the same behind her.

"Stay in the car," she shouted to the driver as she came up on the passenger side. "But put your hands up."

The driver complied - he was in sixties, probably, a terrified expression on his face. His window was rolled down; so was the one behind him.

"Kouno, get the rear door."

Aiming his gun towards the cab with one hand, Kouno stepped forward and yanked open the door behind the driver. Misaki watched for any sign of someone invisible exiting the car. There was no movement, no scuffing of the dirt or gravel on the shoulder of the road.

She took another step closer, the gravel crunching beneath her foot.

"Careful, Chief," Kouno warned. "He could be armed."

Misaki’s heart pounded in her chest, and she shivered despite her jacket. She tried not to imagine a bullet speeding out of the seemingly empty car. "Abo," she said. "HG-139. You're under arrest for the murder of Hourai Yoshimitsu. Show yourself; or we'll be forced to take lethal action."

No sound came from the cab except the panicked breathing of the driver, audible even over the traffic rushing by in the background.

Gravel crunched behind Misaki, and she tensed - but it was just an officer shifting his weight. "You," she said, indicating the man behind her without actually turning her gaze from the cab. "Do you have your baton?"

The officer passed it up to her. Gripping the fifteen-inch-long stick tightly, Misaki leaned forward. She kept her weapon aimed into the back seat, but angled herself so that it wasn't within reach of anyone who might be inside. She pushed the baton into the empty space above the seat but met with no resistance. "Check the other side!"

Another officer stepped forward; biting his lip nervously, he poked his baton into the rear of the cab, then shook his head.

"Front seat."

The second officer jogged around the car and performed the same procedure in the front passenger seat.

"Is it really empty?" Kouno muttered.

"Please," said the driver, "there's no one here. The cab is empty - for hire." Sweat was beading on his forehead despite the chill in the air.

"Your sign says it's in use," Kouno said, and the man started sweating more heavily. 

Misaki ground her teeth. She was tempted to just start firing into the seats, consequences be damned. Instead, she stooped down, grabbed a handful of dirt, and tossed it into the rear of the taxi. The dust and pebbles fell, completely unimpeded by anything. She threw the baton in, hard - it bounced harmlessly off the vinyl seat bench.

"God damn it!" she growled. "When did he bail - how? Is this even the right cab?"

"Hey," said the driver, "who's going to clean up that mess?"

"Be grateful it wasn't bullets!" Misaki shoved her weapon back into its holster and stood with her hands on her hips, inwardly fuming as she stared into the empty cab.

Kouno glanced at her, then turned to the driver, who immediately blanched, his hands still in the air. “Did you pick someone up from the airport just now?”

“Answer honestly or we’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice,” Misaki said coldly.

“Yes,” the driver nodded furiously. “A bald man, yes.”

“So where is he now?” Kouno asked.

“I don’t know - I thought he was in the cab! I was turning onto the expressway, looked in my mirror to merge, and he was just…gone.”

“Disappeared into thin air?”

The driver nodded, then shook his head. “I didn’t see him - but I heard his voice tell me to keep driving, and to tell anyone who asked that the cab was empty. So that’s what I did. He paid extra.” The man held up a wad of bills.

"Takes those for prints," Misaki ordered. At the sight of the driver's downcast expression, she added, "Give him a receipt for it."

Leaving Kouno to finish up, she walked slowly back to their car. As she walked, she felt herself begin to deflate, her anger draining out of her as her adrenaline ebbed. Damn it, they’d been so close! Misaki leaned up the Toyota’s trunk and folded her arms with an exhausted sigh. Ultimately, it was the server subnet that was important, she reminded herself. She wanted to catch Abo, of course, but as long as they got to the stored data before he did, she could afford to let him go.

At least, she could tell herself that.


	15. Chapter 15

Misaki stared blankly out into the wooded area that bordered the Hokkaido expressway, wondering where Abo had escaped to. Kouno was still questioning the cab driver; maybe he would have some answers, but for the time being, the invisible contractor was still on the loose. She shivered in the chill spring air, and wrapped her jacket more tightly around herself.

The Toyota's rear window rolled down a couple of inches, revealing a pair of brown eyes beneath curling dark hair and a pink baseball cap. "He wasn't in the car?" Aisha asked.

"No." Misaki glanced over at her. "I'll think some more about letting you have a service weapon, so that you don't have to stay behind next time."

The contractor's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'll take one for protection, but I think I'll stay behind anyway."

"What? Why?"

"I'm a wall mouse, not a striker."

Misaki frowned. "What does that mean?"

The window rolled all the way down as Kouno joined them, hands shoved glumly in his jacket pockets. "It means that my power is useless when it comes to either offense or defense," Aisha said. "Strikers are the ones who can fight - they can walk right up to someone who's pointing a gun at their face and not be worried."

"Like BK-201," Kouno commented off-handedly.

Aisha shrugged. "He's more of a shadow-striker; the most dangerous when you don't see him coming. Like Abo. I mean contractors like gravity users, or air manipulators. People who can kill you where you stand without hardly moving a muscle. Then there's the wall mice, like me. In a fight we're no better than any average human." She pulled her feet up onto the seat and rested her chin on her knees. "So we stay in the walls, where it's safe."

"So, what, you won't try to kill someone who's attacking you?" Kouno asked. "That doesn't sound much like a contractor."

"Oh no, I'll do my best to kill you, don't worry," the contractor said blandly. "I'll just have to use a gun or a knife like a normal person; but I'd rather run."

"I guess that's fair," Misaki sighed. "It's better than you being a liability, I suppose. Kouno, did the driver give you anything else?"

Her subordinate shook his head. "He didn't see anything. With that back window open, I'm guessing our guy climbed out the window; probably jumped as the cab slowed down to pull off tollway. Gutsy."

"That's far more than ordinary precaution and paranoia - he must have known we were on his tail." A guilty look crossed Kouno's face and she added quickly, "But not because of the surveillance; I was watching the monitors whole time, and he never reacted to anyone's presence. I think we still have a leak on the inside - someone tipped him off."

"Shit," Kouno swore. "Who? One of the Sapporo guys?"

Misaki's brow furrowed. "He was on the eleven forty-five flight from Tokyo; _we_ landed at eleven. He was on his way here before we even met with Tou, before she sent that text to her handler. It had to have been someone at home." She sighed again. "Well, for better or worse, the Syndicate knows we're here."

Her stomach gave a loud rumble, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything all day. All she wanted to do at the moment was eat a Hei-sized lunch, and follow it up with a long nap.

But she couldn't. There was too much work to do.

"So what's next, Chief?"

"Let's debrief Murai; we'll need his help tonight."

"We tailing Officer Tou to her meeting?"

That would be the logical next step, Misaki knew. The officer had probably been working for the Syndicate for years; she'd told them about Misaki and Kouno's interview. She was hardly an innocent bystander in this, and continued surveillance would give them the evidence that they needed to make a move on Tamade's warehouse - could get them those servers. It was the rational move.

It could also get Tou killed.

Misaki stared hard at the gravel shoulder of the highway as she made her decision. "Yes. But we're bringing her in first."

Her subordinate raised an eyebrow at that. "What charge can we arrest her on? We don't have any legit evidence -"

"We're bringing her into the operation."

"But, uh, Chief, she's been working with the Syndicate…"

Aisha was eying her shrewdly. "A contractor would agree to work with you, just to save his own skin. But humans are irrational; she might not want to cooperate."

"That's true," Misaki agreed. "She _was_ working with the Syndicate, and we don't know where her loyalty lies. Trying to turn her back to our side could blow the whole operation. But Abo is most likely here to tie up loose ends. That might simply mean destroying the server subnet; or it could mean Tou." She took a deep breath. She wanted to find those servers, badly. But… "I can't take that risk."

"Right, Chief," Kouno said, still looking uncertain. Aisha didn't comment.

~~~~o~~~~

"My apologies, Director," Officer Tou had said when Misaki phoned, "but I - I haven't had any time to start looking through my old notes yet."

"I understand," Misaki replied, in as friendly tone as she could manage. "There's actually something else that I need your help with - I've already cleared it with your captain. I'll pick you up outside the station in ten minutes." Without waiting for an answer, she'd ended the call.

Now, she was escorting a very nervous and confused Tou up to the hotel room that they were using as an impromptu headquarters.

Misaki wasn't exactly feeling calm and collected herself. She had no desire to admit to her fellow officer the steps that she had taken to get to this point in the investigation; but there was no other way around it. Understanding was the only thing that she could hope for.

"You remember Detective Kouno," Misaki said as she ushered Tou into the room that she was sharing with Aisha.

Kouno, who sat at the desk hunched over one of Aisha's laptops, returned Tou's formal bow with a casual nod.

"And this," Misaki gestured to the woman who was lying on one of the two queen beds, blinking muzzily, "is Aisha. She's a contractor who my department has recently hired."

Tou froze mid-bow. "She's - she's - what?"

"A contractor. I apologize for her rudeness; we've been using her power liberally all day and she's exhausted." In truth, Aisha had sprawled out on the bed and fallen asleep as soon as they'd returned to the hotel. Misaki had felt too guilty to wake her; apparently she'd been too noisy entering the room. "I'd appreciate it if you would keep that news to yourself," she continued, perching stiffly on the edge of the other bed and crossing her legs. "I don't want it to become public knowledge just yet that Section Four has hired a contractor."

The contractor in question yawned widely and stretched; Tou took a reflexive step backwards. If Aisha noticed, she didn't say anything.

"I - of course." Tou glanced around the room. Kouno was seated in the only chair, one bed was occupied by the contractor - her only other option was to sit down next to Misaki. She chose to stand, Misaki noted with interest, leaning awkwardly against the bureau.

"I'm afraid I have to apologize for myself as well," Misaki said.

"Director?"

She took a deep breath, wondering what reaction her confession would yield. "I've been using Aisha's power to illegally tap your phone."

At first, the older woman's brow wrinkled in confusion. Then her eyes widened. "So…you saw…"

"Your text alerting someone in the Syndicate about our interview. Yes."

To Misaki's vast relief and uncomfortable sympathy, Tou's expression turned horrified. It was better than righteous indignation; but not by much.

"I - I can explain -" the officer began, but Misaki cut her off.

"I'm really not interested in your reasons at this point. These are the facts: The day before the Tokyo explosion, your phone received a call from Hourai Yoshimitsu, a member of the Syndicate's hierarchy. Your late husband did IT work for Tamade Shipping Company. Tamade has links to the Syndicate. Today, immediately after I questioned you about Tamade's connection to the Syndicate, you texted an unknown number about my visit. We haven't yet been able to identify the owner of that number - but whoever it is was frequently in contact with Hourai before his arrest. We have the call logs to prove it."

Tou was standing with her hands clasped, not meeting her eyes. Like a schoolgirl at first visit to the principal's office. But at Misaki's last statement, she glanced up, and Misaki saw a flash of understanding - and sudden defiance - cross her expression.

"You have logs to prove that Director Hourai called my phone once," Tou said, "and that he called this other number. But you just said that you've been tapping my phone…illegally."

Misaki nodded. "Yes. I need to find those servers, and all I have so far are conjectures and tenuous connections. So I resorted to a - a _grayer_ area of the law." Before Tou could grab onto that lifeline, she continued, "My plan was to use this more…unorthodox method to gather enough evidence for a legal warrant to raid Tamade's warehouse. Unfortunately, someone tipped the Syndicate off about my trip here, before I even talked to you, and they've sent one of their cleaners."

"One of their…"

"Cleaners." Misaki had heard Hei use the word once - to describe himself. "Someone who cleans up loose ends."

"So this contractor is here to destroy these servers that you're after?"

"It's likely."

Tou's brow furrowed. "So you called me to try and coerce me into admitting some kind of criminal aiding and abetting, so that you can get a warrant to get into the warehouse ahead of him?"

"Yes," Misaki said. "Detective Murai has a detail keeping an eye out for the contractor outside the warehouse where we suspect the servers are located; but you're right, we can't legally _do_ anything without some kind of probable cause. So I need you to tell me what exactly it is that you do for the Syndicate, and if you have any knowledge of the use of that warehouse."

The officer folded her arms. "I'm not admitting to anything, not unless you formally charge with something. And even then, I'm speaking to a lawyer first!"

"See?" Aisha said to the room at large. "Irrational."

Shit, she'd pushed to hard. If Tou decided to make a formal complaint, Misaki's ability to run the investigation would be seriously compromised.

Mind racing through her options, Misaki decided to play her Good Cop card. It had worked in the station. "I'm not going to charge you with anything," she said, firmly but gently. "And not just because I don't have any evidence that's admissible in court. The cleaner may be here to destroy the servers, but that's only one possibility. You have a meeting with your handler tonight; I'm afraid that this contractor is going to use the opportunity to kill you."

A look of panic crossed Tou's face. "What - me? Why?"

"If you could potentially tell me where the servers are, you're a liability to them. If they destroy the servers, you no longer have any use. I suppose it all comes down to how much you know - but the Syndicate didn't stay hidden for so long by being sloppy."

All of the fight seemed to drain from the officer, and she sagged visibly.

"Sit down," Misaki said, not unkindly, patting the spot next to her on the bed. After a moment, Tou took a few weak steps to the bed and sat lowered herself down.

Misaki picked up the folder that was resting on the bedside table and removed a paper printout of the airline's ticket information. "This is HG-139, code name Abo. He arrived in Sapporo two hours ago."

Tou took the paper and studied the poor color photo. "What's his - his magic power?"

"Invisibility." Misaki gave a frustrated sigh. "He was able to get away from us at the airport using it."

"Are you sure he's here to kill me?"

Her voice was calm and steady, Misaki noted with approval. "No. He may be here to destroy the servers. But it's a very high chance that you're his target as well."

"If he's invisible, how can I protect myself?"

"He'll be visible until he activates his power. When he does, we'll receive an alert from Tokyo. You'll stay here in protective custody while we stake out the meeting with your handler. If Abo shows up, visible, we'll catch him. If he activates his power, we'll know, and take steps to keep you safe. So here's the deal: you tell us everything that you know about the Syndicate, your handler, the servers - you'll still be charged with criminal activity, but you'll get off light. And we'll be able to use whatever you give us to take action."

"And if I don't tell you anything?" There was no defiance left in her voice, only a note a quiet defeat. "They - the Syndicate - told me once that if I ever talk, they'll - they'll kill Renji."

Misaki had anticipated that; even so, hearing the words from Tou sent a wash of cold fear over her. "Your son will be safe, I promise. The information that you give us could be the key to taking down whatever's left of the organization. There won't _be_ anyone to come after either of you if this goes well. And if it doesn't, we can still protect you." Tou still looked doubtful, so Misaki added, "You've heard that I arrested my father for his involvement with the Syndicate?"

Eyes widening slightly, Tou nodded.

"Do you think they didn't make the same threats to him? Do you think that I would have done it if there was even a chance he'd be in danger?" Misaki ignored the sour twisting of her stomach. The two situations weren't at all comparable; as far as she knew, the Syndicate _hadn_ _'t_ made that threat to her father. But she needed Tou's cooperation. A little white lie would be worth it, to find the servers and keep the woman safe. "Well? What's your decision?"

"It's not much of a choice," Tou said bitterly. "You'll still charge me, even if I cooperate fully? I'll lose my job - how can I ever explain that to Renji?"

"I can't make exceptions. You _have_ been taking money from the Syndicate in exchange for whatever it is exactly that you've been doing for them. But at least you can tell your son that you did the right thing in the end."

The other woman was silent for a long, long moment. Then at last, she nodded. "Alright. I'll tell you what I know. I just - I'm afraid it won't be much."

Misaki smiled in grim relief. "Anything helps. First, and most important: can you confirm that the Syndicate is storing servers in one of Tamade's warehouses?"

"I - I can't."

Kouno's head snapped up from the laptop. "Hang on! You just said -" but Misaki raised her hand and cut him off.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

Tou shook her head. "I don't know _where_ the servers are; not positively. It's possible that they're in one of Tamade's warehouses, likely even. But I was never told. I only access them remotely."

"Alright," Misaki said, struggling to keep her impatience from showing. "Let's start at the beginning. When and how did the Syndicate recruit you?"

"They actually recruited my husband first," Tou said softly. "He'd just started working for Tamade, setting up their inventory tracking system. Someone from the company said he had a friend who was willing to pay for a private project. It was a lot of money, which we needed at the time. So he agreed. My husband died in a car accident a month after he finished the project; at his funeral, a man I'd never met before approached me and said that he needed someone who could check up on the system occasionally. Maintenance tasks, basic debugging. Things I knew how to do. He told me how much he was willing to pay, and, well, I had Renji to think about. I had just joined the police, but the entry level salary was so low…"

"Car accident, huh?" Aisha spoke up abruptly, her tone mild.

Misaki narrowed her eyes. "Does that detail mean anything to you?" she asked the contractor, though she thought she knew what she was getting at.

Aisha shrugged. "Not really. Guy finishes an important project for the Syndicate, then dies in an accident. They do that kind of thing a lot."

"Are you saying that the Syndicate had my husband killed?" Tou snapped, jumping to her feet, hands clenched at her sides.

Aisha flinched back. "I don't know. I just wouldn't be surprised if they did."

"Those - those _bastards_!"

"That's an investigation for another time," Misaki said firmly. "This man, the one who recruited you. Is he the one you texted this morning?"

The other woman nodded. She was breathing heavily with anger, but she sat back down on the bed and crossed her arms. "He's the only one from the Syndicate I've ever met. We rarely meet in person; I don't even know his name."

"Can you describe him?"

"One seventy-one centimeters in height, about seventy kilos," Tou answered in the immediate, sure tone of an experienced cop. "Middle-aged, probably early forties. Keeps his hair hidden under a baseball cap. No facial hair or distinguishing marks."

_Baseball cap_. An icy shiver ran down Misaki's spine. That didn't mean anything. Tou's description was of a completely ordinary, average-looking man. It could simply be a coincidence that this matched the description that Hei had given her of the man who'd been keeping an eye on his team; the man who'd taken those photographs. And for all she knew, all the Syndicate's handlers wore baseball caps. _Aisha_ wore one, for god's sake. Coincidence.

But Misaki had long since stopped believing in coincidences. "Kouno," she said, "do you have the log from the handler's phone?" Aisha had downloaded it on their drive back to the hotel; the phone had turned out to be in the name of an elderly Korean woman. A stolen identity, no doubt.

"Sure, Chief."

"Check and see if any of the numbers contacted belong to someone named Kuno Kiyoshi."

"Who?"

"Just check."

"Right. I, uh, might need Aisha's help though, if you want it fast. Not all these numbers have names listed on the accounts."

Misaki glanced over at the contractor. _Priorities_ , she reminded herself, with great difficulty. This one could wait. "Make a note of it; we'll get to it when we have time." Turning back to Tou, she said, "So you accessed the servers remotely. What exactly did you do?"

"I…did whatever they asked me to. Usually it was just running the usual maintenance programs, or installing a patch - that they would provide me with. I never needed to visit the site, so I never found out where it was."

"And the day before the Tokyo Explosion, when Hourai called you - what did he want?"

"I didn't know it was Director Hourai, actually. I'd never gotten instructions from that number before, but he had the right passcodes so I didn't question it. He told me to take the servers offline - indefinitely."

Misaki's heart sank, but she forced herself to ignore her emotions. "Indefinitely? Can you bring them back online?"

Tou shook her head. "I only had the commands to shut them down. To bring them back online - as far as I understand it, anyway - someone would have to do it manually."

"From the site, you mean," Misaki said dully. She turned to Aisha. "Can you -"

"Nope. Not if they're offline. I could talk to them if I was physically touching them," the contractor shrugged, "but there's nothing I can do remotely."

" _Shit_ \- so we're back where we started. No confirmation that the servers are in the warehouse, and no probably cause to raid it." It was times like these when Misaki especially missed the freedom that had come with working with Hei, taking those little shortcuts around the law that were necessary and justifiable, given the circumstances. It had rankled at the time, true, but now that she no longer had that freedom it was more aggravating that she would have expected.

"Time to go back to plan B, Chief?"

Misaki glanced up at Kouno. "Plan B?"

Her subordinate shrugged. "The meeting with Tou's handler. A good old-fashioned stakeout."

Misaki sighed. "Unfortunately, that does look like our best bet. This guy will probably have something useful for us, and if Abo does show up to try and kill Tou, we may be able to nab him as well. The only problem is that both of them might bail when she doesn't show. Tou, do you -"

"What do you mean, when I don't show?" Tou demanded. Misaki narrowed her eyes at the woman's tone, but she didn't back down. "Of course I'll be there - it would compromise the operation, otherwise!"

"Your safety is my priority," Misaki said. "If Abo _is_ here to kill you, he'll most likely attempt it at that meeting. So I can't let you anywhere near it."

Tou stood up, drawing herself up to her full, shorter-than-Misaki height and holding her arms stiffly at her sides. "I'm an officer of the law. It's my duty to protect the innocent from people like the Syndicate. I accepted that risk when I joined the National Police Agency. Besides," she added, her voice a little quieter, "this is partly my responsibility. I took money from them to protect my family, against what I knew to be right. If I have to lose my job because of that, even go to jail, I want my son to know that I at least tried to do the right thing in the end."

Misaki gave her a long, hard look, considering. It was a serious risk - more than Tou probably understood. It was also their best shot at gaining any leads in this case. "I'll leave the choice up to you," she said at last. "If you're sure you want to do it, then fine. If not, you are in no way obligated. In fact I would prefer it if you stayed here, in protective custody."

"I'm doing it."

"Irrational," Aisha commented to herself as she leaned back against the pillows, arms behind her head.


	16. Chapter 16

“Because cell phones communicate with radio waves,” Aisha explained patiently. “I can read texts because they get converted into binary by the phone’s computer. The call doesn’t. And even those I have to access through the service provider; I can’t directly talk to the phone.”

Detective Murai frowned and turned to Misaki. “I’m not sure I like this. What’s the use of even having her along? She might not be telling the full truth about her power.”

Misaki straightened in her chair at the long conference table. Murai was tall and lanky, and a few years older than her; she didn’t like feeling like she was being looked down on. Both Murai and Tou had voiced their complaints about Aisha’s inclusion more than once; Misaki was getting tired of having to exert her authority. “It’s in her best interest to cooperate with us,” she said, striving for the endless patience that the contractor was displaying and knowing that she was failing. “Aisha can monitor the account for texts or other activity; all your equipment can do is tap any calls that he happens to make. And I want her on site in case we get a chance to move on the warehouse.” That was unlikely, Misaki knew, but she could hope.

She’d set up an unofficial headquarters in the hotel’s smaller conference room. It was closer to the rendezvous site than police headquarters, and she wanted to keep Aisha’s presence as out-of-sight as possible. While Misaki, Murai, and Tou hashed out the operation plan, Kouno and Aisha continued to try and track down leads on the handler’s identity through the phone logs.

The details of the operation had turned out to be more complicated than she would have thought. She had three goals for tonight: first, to identify and arrest Tou’s handler. That could likely give them the key piece of evidence that they needed to confirm the location of the subservers and move on the warehouse.  Second, she wanted Abo. The fact that he was here in Sapporo spoke to his particular utility for the Syndicate, much like Hei’s role had been. He obviously wasn’t simply just a contractor of convenience; whoever was still pulling the strings was relying on him quite heavily, and Misaki was afraid of what other damage he might do.

Third, and most importantly, she had keep her - and by extension Murai’s - team safe.

“I was partnered once with a contractor who could read radio waves,” Aisha commented offhandedly as she returned to staring at her computer screen at the other end of the table. “Between the two of us we could read anything on anyone’s phone; it was a perfect setup.”

“Why’d you stop working with him then?” Kouno asked.

“He exploded.”

Kouno ran a hand down his face. “Why did I have to ask?” he muttered.

Murai had gone a little green in the face as well. “Director, are you -”

“Aisha stays in the van with you and me and the technician,” Misaki said firmly. “She’s part of this investigation, and she’s part of my team.”

The detective nodded reluctantly. “Alright, Director. It’s your call.”

 _Damn right it is_ , Misaki thought as they returned to the map of the neighborhood where Tou would be meeting with her handler.

For once, the rendezvous wasn’t set in some secluded or industrial part of town, but rather in a popular bar off the busy Soseigawa Dori. Normally that would have worried Misaki - too high a possibility for collateral damage if something went wrong, and it would be challenging to pick up any phone calls that might be made with so much surrounding interference. Tonight, however, it should work in their favor: Abo would have a tricky time navigating a crowded space while invisible, and Kouno and Murai’s two men would blend in easily.

“If you have to run,” Misaki told Tou, “try and head north on Soseigawa Dori.” It was a divided avenue; between the two sets of lanes were long ramps leading up from and down into an underground bypass. A narrow strip of park was sunken between the two ramps, separated from them by tall concrete walls. The entrance ramp was directly across the southbound lanes from the bar. “If you can get down to the tunnel entrance, we can trap anyone who might follow.”

Murai nodded. “We’ll be in the van, parked in front of the construction site on the other side of the divide. I’ll station units here, here, and here. And access door thirteen -” he pointed to the schematic of the tunnel that was lying next to the map “- will be open.”

“But we may lose your radio signal once you go underground,” Misaki added. “So be careful. Don’t hesitate to run if you have to, but bear in mind that we need to keep communication open for as long as possible. Ideally, no one will need to leave the bar.”

She sighed to herself. It was too bad Sapporo didn’t have a doll network like Tokyo’s. There had been talk of expanding the network into other cities a year or so ago, but Kanami had been throwing her full weight as Chief of Astronomics against every mention of the idea ever since her revelation that Eunice and a couple of her other mediums were at some level regaining their sentience. While Misaki completely agreed with her in principle, she couldn’t deny that the network was invaluable to protecting the city and its citizens. It would have been perfect for keeping an eye on the tunnel’s interior.

“ _If_ I have to run,” Tou said stiffly. “I’ll be armed, too.”

“You can’t shoot what you can’t see,” Misaki reminded her. “And if I get the alert that Abo’s star has activated, it may mean I’m calling off the mission. I expect you to comply with such an order.”

The officer pursed her lips. “Of course.”

Misaki studied her, not quite sure that she believed those words. In the past couple of hours, Tou had gone from defensive over her decision to work for the Syndicate to an almost vindictive drive to take them down. Misaki wished that Aisha hadn’t made that comment about the car accident; she needed Tou to be thinking rationally, not vengefully.

Before she could say anything, though, Murai’s phone rang.

“Yes?” he answered. “Hang on.” He held the phone out to Tou. “Haga just met your son outside his cram school. He says he won’t get in the car until he talks to you first.”

Tou nodded sharply, pride in her eyes, and took the phone. “Renji. Yes, go with Officer Haga. He’ll take you to the Sapporo Grand; I’m already here. That was very smart of you to ask to speak to me - I’ll see you soon.” She ended the call and handed the phone back to Murai. “He’s such a good boy,” she said.

“I’m sure he is,” Misaki said offhandedly. She didn’t anticipate that the Syndicate would go after the woman’s son - that would only be useful if they needed leverage over her, and Misaki was pretty sure that in their view, either Tou didn’t know enough to be a threat and would therefore be left alone, or was too much of a liability and therefore on their hit list. There would be no point in harming the boy. But she couldn’t in good conscience deny Tou the comfort of knowing that her son was safe.

She was just glad that the kid would be staying at the hotel headquarters with a couple of officers, and she therefore wouldn’t be involved in the babysitting.

“Any activity around the warehouses?” she asked Murai.

The detective shook his head. “Nothing reported. You’re sure the contractor can’t slip past using his power?”

“Of course he can - but there’s been no activity from his star since he gave us the slip at the airport. Wherever he is, he’s still visible.”

“I guess that’s good news.”

“It is good news. Even better news would be if he doesn’t use his power at all tonight.” She stared down at the map, deep in thought, and her stomach gave a sudden, loud rumble. Everyone around the table except for Aisha politely ignored the sound.

“There’s still some of that fried rice left if you’re hungry, Acting Director,” the contractor said. “It’s not healthy to let your blood sugar drop, especially not right before a mission.”

Misaki tried to brush off the comment. “Maybe later.” Kouno had picked up the Chinese takeout for their dinner a couple of hours ago; Misaki had tried to eat, but all of the options had some sort of fried component that had turned her stomach and she’d been unable to finish. Now it was sitting on the table, stone cold and even less appetizing.

The contractor shrugged and muttered something to herself that sounded like _irrational_.

“Can someone put on another pot of coffee?” Misaki asked the room at large, ignoring Aisha. She’d been managing to get through her usual days without a caffeine fix, but a stakeout called for wide-awake alertness and tea just wouldn’t cut it. A couple of cups wouldn’t hurt.

“Hey Chief,” Kouno spoke up after an awkward cough, during which one of Murai’s subordinates started another pot brewing. “That name you asked me to check - Kuno Kiyoshi? You were right, this guy made a number of calls to a phone belonging to him. Goes back several years.”

Misaki’s blood froze in her veins. “Anything else?”

“Not on our guy. Aisha looked up Kuno, though - he used to be a detective at central HQ, but quit when his partner was killed by a contractor. No idea what he did after that, but on the night of the Tokyo Explosion, a car registered to him was caught in an explosion not far from the Gate. The driver and several heavily armed but unidentified people were killed. Sounds like something to do with the Syndicate, huh?”

She hadn’t tried to locate Huang after the Syndicate’s plan failed - he was a former cop after all. Either he’d be on the run just like Hei, or he would go to his old friends in the police for protection on his own; and she would’ve heard about it if he had. The news of his death shouldn’t have been surprising, yet it was. She wondered if Hei knew, and hoped that he didn’t.

“He was BK-201’s handler,” she told Kouno, trying to sound disinterested. “It sounds like he’d turned on the Syndicate as well - or at least, they turned on him. Hourai told me that steps had been taken to eliminate Hei’s whole team.”

This man, their mystery handler, was almost definitely the one who’d taken the photos, then. Misaki’s stomach twisted, and she was glad that she hadn’t tried to eat more of the fried food.

They continued to rehash the details of the operation, although at this point, with only an hour to go until they had to be set up, it was too late to make any major changes to the plan. Aisha eventually shut her laptop with a snap, declaring that she needed a break if she was going to be of any use later on. Pulling a rolled magazine out of her back pocket, she settled into her chair, knees propped against the table, and flipped through the pages. Tou cast her an offended glance, but didn’t comment.

Misaki, for her part, sat staring at the map and schematics, trying to keep her mind focused on the job at hand and not on what she would do if they were lucky enough to catch the man who had potentially incriminating evidence on her and her…situation. She downed two more cups of coffee, more because it was keeping her from getting too hungry than because she needed the caffeine.

Although she did need the caffeine.

“What’s so interesting about those magazines, anyway?” Kouno commented with a long yawn before taking a swallow from his own coffee cup. “It’s housekeeping for housewives. You’re not a housewife.”

The contractor shrugged but didn’t look up. “I’m looking at pictures of adultery.”

Kouno spit his coffee out and the entire room turned to stare at Aisha. “Um, what?” Kouno asked.

Aisha flipped over the magazine to show a colorful photo full of various garden wind chimes. “ _Furin_ ,” she said in her heavily-accented Japanese.

“Uh…I think you mean _fuurin_.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you definitely said -”

They continued to bicker. It was no different than Kouno and Saitou’s usual constant stream of disagreements on a stakeout; Aisha was fitting right in, Misaki thought ruefully.

Worse, it reminded her suddenly and starkly of Hei. He was fluent enough in Japanese that she frequently forgot that it wasn’t his native language, but small things occasionally tripped him up - especially when he was tired.

She remembered one night in particular. He’d arrived at her place just after she’d gone to bed; a little after midnight. Dropping his coat and knives on the floor next to the bed, he’d collapsed onto the mattress fully dressed.

Misaki rolled over sleepily to see his face pressed into the pillow. “There’s still some leftover Korean food in the fridge if you’re hungry,” she said.

“Not hungry.” He sounded utterly exhausted, as if even speech was too much effort.

“Long day?” she murmured, reaching over to stroke the back of his neck. His muscles were tensed and knotted beneath her hand. If she concentrated on that, she didn’t have to think about what he had been doing to tire himself out so much or what kind of report would be waiting on her desk in the morning.

“Mm,” was his only response.

Misaki smiled softly to herself, and sat up so that she could dig both of her thumbs between his shoulder blades. Hei made a little sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan that set a warm flame in her heart. He was a quiet dinner companion, a quiet conversationalist, and even a quiet lover; she loved being able draw out any kind of sound from him. She gently kneaded the muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt at the base of his neck, her hair falling in a curtain over her shoulder to brush his cheek.

“Lower,” he murmured into the pillow.

She slid her hands down an inch or two; the muscles of his back were even tighter than his neck had been. “How’s this?”

He groaned again. “Mm, kimchi.”

Misaki paused in confusion. “What?”

“Kimchi,” Hei repeated muzzily. “Don’t stop.”

“Kimchi? Are you hungry?”

He turned his head to look back at her in confusion. “What?”

“Why are you talking about Korean cabbage?”

He blinked. “Cabbage? I said it feels good, then you stopped…”

“You...” Misaki bit her lip in sudden understanding, struggling not to laugh. “ _Kimochii?_ That's not what you said - you said _kimuchi_.”

“Yes?” he said, obviously not hearing the difference between the two words.

At the look of his sleepy confusion she couldn't hold back her laughter any longer. She thought she saw the corners of his mouth turn up slightly, though he was still clearly bemused, and she kissed his cheek before digging her thumbs into the knot of muscle again.

“Hm,” he said.

“What?”

“I _am_ a little hungry now.”

Misaki pressed her face against his shoulder and laughed.

“Mom??” The door to the conference room banged open, startling Misaki out of her daydream. She looked up to see a gangly preteen boy with glasses rush into the room and make a beeline for Tou. Two uniformed officers trailed in after him.

Tou stood, her cool, professional demeanor melting away at the sight of her son. “Renji, honey, calm down; nothing’s wrong.”

The boy threw himself into her arms. “Why were there officers at my school - why can’t I go home?”

“I need you to stay here while I help Director Kirihara with a case,” Tou said, patting her son’s hair soothingly. “You can work on your assignments for cram school while you wait for me.”

Renji cast Misaki a mistrustful stare. “Is something going on?” he asked. “Is my mom in trouble?”

Misaki blinked in surprise; the boy _was_ quick on the uptake. “No,” she said in what she hoped was a reassuring voice. “Your mom’s not in trouble. We’d just like you to wait here while she helps us out with a mission.”

“You’re that police officer from the news, aren’t you? The one who says contractors are just like normal humans, even though they kill people - are there contractors in Sapporo?”

“Renji!” Tou chided, “That’s enough asking questions. Get your books out and start on your homework.”

The boy continued to regard Misaki balefully, but he did as his mother told him. He began to sit in the vacant seat next to Aisha, but Tou silently guided him to another spot across the table. The contractor never looked up from her magazine.

Detective Murai’s phone buzzed, breaking the awkward silence that had followed Renji’s questions. “The van is in position,” he said, checking the screen. “Techs are setting up the equipment. Time to head out.”

Misaki checked her watch. There were still two hours to go until the designated rendezvous, but early was better than on time in a stakeout.

“Who’s on snack duty?” Kouno asked as he shut down his laptop and stuffed it into a backpack. “That’s usually Saitou’s job.”

“I’ll go,” Misaki said abruptly. That way she could be guaranteed to get something that she could eat; and that recollection had left her with a lingering melancholy. She could use some time alone, even if it was only for a short time.

~~~~o~~~~

 Her solitude, however, only lasted as far as the hotel lobby, where she ran into Kaede. He was checking out, having been called back to Tokyo on Intelligence business and insisted that she shouldn’t walk alone to the store so late in the evening. Since it was on the way to the train station, Misaki couldn’t gracefully decline.

“I don’t see why you don’t want to pick up _real_ food,” Kaede complained as they hurried across a busy intersection.

“This is real food. It’s the best thing for a stakeout. And since you’re not _part_ of this stakeout, you’re opinion doesn’t really matter.”

 Truthfully, Misaki had been craving meat buns and bottled milk for hours now; she blamed Saitou. Ever since her subordinate had brought the cheap food to their watch on the American Embassy, that was the only thing that her stomach wanted during late-night police work.

Then again, maybe it was just the pregnancy talking. In which case it was Hei’s fault.

“You should go easy on the convenience store food,” Kaede said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you’ve put on a little weight in the last few weeks.”

Misaki stopped dead in her tracks and gave him a cold look to mask her embarrassment. “Exactly how am I _supposed_ to take that?” She’d finally caved and bought a larger pair of suit pants just a few days ago.

“I think the stress is starting to get to you, that’s all. Come on, you’ve never been sensitive about this sort of thing before. I only say this because we’ve known each other so long; but you need to be more careful about your image.”

“My image? What does that mean?”

“You’re in the public eye now; you can’t let them see how frazzled you are.”

“My stress levels and food choices aren’t your concern,” she snapped. as she pushed open the door to the convenience store ahead of him. She'd been having to be extra careful with her makeup to mask her chronic fatigue, but on the whole she thought that she'd been handling it well. Apparently she was wrong. “Don’t you have juice to buy?” 

Kaede shook his head in defeat and wandered over to the refrigerated drinks section, while Misaki continued on to the prepackaged foods after stopping to grab a basket.

She tossed in half a dozen buns for herself, then started selecting a few other items at random for the rest of the team. Kouno would want some of those gummy fish; she had no idea what Aisha liked. Or Murai, for that matter.

If Kaede was noticing her weight gain, doubtless others would be soon; maybe already had. She scowled to herself. It wasn’t like she was even showing yet! In just another month or two it would be all too obvious, and she still had no plan for how she would tell her team - or _what_ she would tell them. And if they did manage to arrest Tou’s handler, and he was indeed the man who had photographed her and Hei that night, she would be revealed as the biggest hypocrite the NPA had ever employed. Everything that she’d worked for would gone in an instant.

“Misaki? Is that you?”

The voice snapped her back to the present, and she glanced over at the woman who’d come up to stand beside her. The very, very pregnant woman, wearing a roomy house dress and slip on shoes. Misaki didn’t know her at first, but after a long moment, recognition dawned.

“Yuri!” she said in surprise. “Um, how are you?” She really had no desire to make small talk with an old college friend - the ex-girlfriend of her ex-boyfriend, no less, but Yuri answered before she could politely excuse herself.

“Great,” the other woman smiled and patted her stomach. “My husband’s working late tonight, but I desperately needed some gelato!” She laughed; Misaki smiled half-heartedly. Was _she_ ever going to get that…large? Intellectually she knew that she would; she just couldn’t imagine it, at all.

“How about you?” Yuri continued. “You look…great.” Her eyes had landed on Misaki’s midsection; Misaki resisted the urge to belt her jacket in an attempt to hide her waist. “I would never have expected you and Kaede to get back together…”

“Oh, we’re not together,” Misaki said hurriedly; Yuri must have seen them come into the store. “We’re here for work. And he’s leaving tonight.”

The other woman’s eyes flicked down again, and Misaki abruptly realized the reason for her confusion. “Wait, you think Kaede - oh god, no!”

Yuri burst out laughing. “I'm sorry, your expression - you look so horrified! So when did you get married?” 

“I'm not married, actually,” she said, and Yuri had the grace to look embarrassed.

“Oh, I'm sorry; I didn’t mean to imply…” She coughed awkwardly. “Can I - can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Misaki said grudgingly; she had a feeling she knew what was coming.

Yumi placed a protective hand over her belly. “I’ve just been so worried, ever since the news about contractors came out - but I was already pregnant by then. If I’d known before…I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem like the kind of world to bring a new life into. Are you afraid, at all? In your situation?”

Yep, that was the question. Misaki shrugged. “I’ve known about contractors from the beginning. The world really isn’t that different, for me.”

“The news pamphlets say that people aren’t born contractors - is that true?”

“As far we know, yes. I don’t think you have anything to be worried about.” After all, if contractors _could_ be born, the risk was probably higher if a parent was one as well. Yuri’s child, at least, wouldn’t have that risk.

“What about your - um, I mean…sometimes I think my husband is more worried than I am.”

“My boyfriend works overseas,” Misaki said. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him about…things.”

“Your imaginary boyfriend, you mean,” Kaede commented from behind her.

Misaki felt her cheeks redden. “Yes, my imaginary boyfriend,” she said, praying that that was all of the conversation he’d overheard.

“Hello, Yuri,” Kaede addressed his former girlfriend. “You’ve been busy, I see.”

Yuri arched an eyebrow. “I don’t believe this conversation involves you in any way.”

“I need to go pay for these,” Misaki said as Kaede opened his mouth to retort. “I have work to do. Kaede, don’t you have a train to catch? Yuri, it was good to see you.”

Without waiting for an answer from either of them, Misaki turned on her heel and headed to the cash register. She didn’t have the luxury of worrying about what would happen five months from now, or even five days from now. _Focus on the job_ , she told herself. _That_ _’s what matters right now; everything else is just a distraction._


	17. Chapter 17

“Does she normally eat like this on a stakeout?” Murai asked, his voice quiet but not quiet enough to escape Misaki’s hearing.

She had her gaze trained on the three-story, red brick bar that was squeezed between two midrise office buildings across the wide, divided street. The surveillance van was parked next to an empty construction site; it was too far away from the bar for her to see much, even with her binoculars, but any closer and the unmarked vehicle would be obvious. She ignored the detective’s comment, and took another bite of her meat bun.

“I don’t know,” Aisha replied. “I’ve never done a stakeout with Section Four before.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Kouno’s voice came in over the radio, and Misaki immediately sat up straighter, prepared for a report. “If she’s on her third bun, then yes,” her subordinate said.

“Fourth,” Murai replied.

“Damn, Chief, leave some for the rest of us!”

“Everyone pay attention to your jobs!” Misaki snapped. “We’re only fifteen minutes out from the appointed meeting time. Kouno, anything on your end?”

Misaki, Murai, Aisha, and a communications technician were crammed into the back of the surveillance van. A couple of officers in plainclothes lurked around the vicinity of the bar, while Kouno and one of Murai’s people, a woman named Aoki, sat at a table inside, not far from Tou’s location.

“Negative, Chief. I’ve got eyes on Officer Tou; she’s waiting at the table. No one in a baseball cap has been in the bar.”

“He usually shows up right on time or minute after,” Tou said quietly into her mic. “We’ve got time yet.”

“Tou, keep off the channel unless it’s an emergency,” Misaki reminded her. “We can’t risk tipping off anyone who might be watching.”

The officer didn’t reply, but Misaki thought she could hear her frustration through the silent radio.

She could sympathize. Misaki wasn’t usually one to feel claustrophobic, but she was having trouble with the confined space tonight. She wanted to be out in the fresh night air, actively _doing_ something, even if it was just pacing back and forth watching the front door of the bar. Crammed together with the others in the hot and stuffy van was leaving her feeling anxious and useless.

She’d had to put away the field glasses because her hands were shaking too much for them to be of any use. Coffee didn’t usually make her jittery; she supposed it was simply a case of too much after too long an abstinence. She shrugged off her suit jacket and shifted her gun in its holster. That was a little better.

“Any sign of the contractor?” Murai asked. A chorus of negatives sounded from Kouno and the team on the street.

“No alerts from Astronomics,” Misaki said with a quick glance at her phone. “He’s not using his power, wherever he is. Well, stay alert people, and remember our objectives: capture Abo and the handler, but not at the expense of bystander safety.”

The team all acknowledged the directive, and settled in to wait. Misaki and Murai kept watch on the crowded street outside, while Ono, the technician, fiddled with his equipment as it scanned for cell phone calls potentially coming from one of their targets. Aisha had pulled out her magazine once again.

The minutes ticked slowly by. Misaki’s hand clenched and unclenched around her field glasses in her lap; she was full of pent-up energy with nowhere to release it. Five minutes…ten minutes…little by little the appointed time of the rendezvous approached.

There were two minutes left when something caught her eye. “Baseball cap,” she said, straining her eyes through the lenses as her pulse quickened. “Man. Right build, but I can’t see his face. Looks like - yes, he’s entering the bar.”

Everyone in the van waited with bated breath. There was silence on the radio until Kouno said, “False alarm.” Tou must have signaled that he wasn’t their contact.

Misaki sagged in her seat and reached for her coffee tumbler. Another cup wouldn’t hurt. She’d just taken a sip when Kouno spoke up again.

“Tou’s taking out her phone - looks like a text.”

At those words, Aisha dropped her magazine and called on her power. In the confined space, it suddenly seemed as if the whole world had gone blue. Murai and Ono visibly jumped, the technician pressing as far away from the contractor as he could.

“It’s from the handler’s phone,” Aisha said. Her hands were resting on her laptop keyboard; Misaki wasn’t sure exactly how it worked, but earlier she’d done something with Tou’s phone that would allow her to access the call logs through the service provider’s networks. Technically that wasn’t covered under their wiretapping warrant, but Misaki would find a way to justify it.

“Do you have the text?” she asked the contractor.

“Yeah. It says _Abort_.”

Misaki frowned and drummed her fingers on the field glasses in her lap. “Tou, have you ever had a meeting aborted before?” she asked into the radio.

It was Kouno who answered. “She gave the signal for _no_.”

“He must have spotted our surveillance,” Murai said. “He’ll be blocks away by now.”

That was the most logical explanation, but it didn’t feel right. “Everyone stay put,” Misaki decided. “Continue the operation.”

“Director -” Murai began.

“I don’t trust this situation,” she said. “Maybe he’s just being overly cautious; he saw something that spooked him, and doesn’t want to risk a meeting. In which case you’re right, and he’s already out of our reach. But I’m more concerned about HG-139. He’s in Sapporo for a reason. He knew we were waiting for him at the airport; it would be reasonable for him to assume that we’re here as well. I don’t want to give away any of our positions.”

“Unless he’s here for the warehouse, and this meeting is just a distraction,” Aisha said.

“That’s why I have a detail staking out each of the three warehouses,” Murai shot back. “There’s been no activity out of the ordinary at any of them; they all have the contractor’s picture.”

“It doesn’t hurt to wait and watch,” Misaki said firmly. “That’s practically the definition of policework.”

“Hang on,” Tou interrupted, her voice quiet but urgent. “I see him! He’s not wearing the hat, so I didn’t recognize him at first - he’s leaving the bar.”

“There’s a crowd leaving right now,” Kouno said. “Which one is he?”

“One of the men in a business suit. I’m following him.”

“No,” Misaki ordered. “Tou, stay where you are. Kouno, you and Aoki follow him.”

“Shit, there’s at least five men in suits - which one is he?”

“Second from the left. I’m on him, just follow me.”

“Chief, she’s heading towards the door,” Kouno warned.

Misaki clenched the radio in her hand, wishing that she’d positioned herself in the bar instead of the van - but she’d been more worried about leaving Aisha alone than Tou. And she hadn’t wanted to risk the man recognizing her. “Tou, sit down and stay inside - that’s an order!”

Kouno’s muttered curse told her that Tou hadn’t listened.

_Shit_ , Misaki swore to herself, and raised her field glasses to the window once again. “Kouno, Aoki, stay on her and keep a sharp lookout for Abo - he’s our biggest threat at this point.”

“There’s a lot of people outside, Chief. I can’t tell any of these guys in suits apart, but Tou is still following them a couple paces behind. Headed north towards the intersection.”

“I see her,” Misaki said. The officer was difficult to spot in the crowd moving up the street; Misaki hardly dared blink.

“Can you tell who she’s following?” Murai had joined Misaki at the window, his own binoculars in hand.

“Negative,” was Kouno’s response.

They watched as the group of five men began to cross Soseigawa Dori with the light. Tou disappeared in the crowd of businessmen and bar-goers. Misaki focused and refocused her glasses, but couldn’t pick her out.

“Kouno, I lost her,” she told the radio. “What’s going on?”

“They’ve just reached the other side of the intersection; starting across the bridge over the park.”

Misaki turned to Detective Murai. “Have a unit move in,” she said. “Block off the tunnel entrances. If Tou can positively identify him, there’s no point in just tailing - we need to grab him _now_.”

Murai nodded and began issuing orders. Misaki strained her eyes, trying to spot Tou amongst the crowd that was streaming in both directions across the bridge, but she couldn’t find the woman.

“ _Shit_ ,” Kouno swore suddenly. “Chief, she’s gone!”

“What do you mean gone?” Misaki demanded.

“I mean I had eyes on her, then she just vanished!”

In her pocket, her cell phone began to vibrate. Misaki didn’t need to take it out to know what that meant. “HG-139,” she breathed. Through her binoculars she saw Kouno and Aoki pushing through the crowd, presumably trying to reach the spot where the officer had disappeared. “Shit - Tou, get off the bridge and back to the van!”

There was no answer. Misaki tried again, the anxiety creeping into her voice. “Officer Tou, do you copy? _Tou_??”

The voice that answered her was deep and male, with an audible rasp. “ _No_.”

Heart in her throat, Misaki threw down her field glasses and radio and flung open the door to the van. Murai was calling something behind her but she barely heard him.

She raced up Soseigawa Dori, dashing across the northbound lanes as soon as she an opening in the oncoming rush of headlights. Pain lanced through a stitch in her side, but she kept running.

Abo was invisible; he could be anywhere. But he couldn’t walk through walls, and he couldn’t walk through people. What escape route would he use?

Misaki reached the intersection; she was between the surface street and the mouth of the tunnel’s exit ramp. A squad car, blue and red lights blinding in the dark, blocked the exit; there would be another car in front of the south entrance stopping all traffic from entering.

 Trusting to her instincts, she flashed her badge at the nearest officer as she dodged around the front bumper of his car and dashed into the tunnel.

With the entrance blocked, there was no traffic. Misaki slowed to a walk, drawing her weapon as she paced down the center of the long ramp. The sounds of the street outside faded into the background, and she realized suddenly that she’d left her radio in the van. After a moment’s hesitation, she kept going. She could handle Abo on her own, if she had to.

Ignoring the pain in her side, she listened hard; but all she could hear was her own ragged breathing.

Then she picked up the faint sound of footsteps, striding away into the orange-lit emptiness ahead of her.

Misaki raised her gun, aiming in the general direction of the sound. She didn’t have much chance of hitting an invisible person, but a warning shot might slow him down.

“Freeze!” she shouted, her voice echoing off the concrete walls. “This is the police!”

The footsteps paused; then took off running.

Misaki fired. The gunshot reverberated deafeningly in the confined space as her bullet buried itself in the asphalt twenty yards ahead. Her ears were ringing, the stitch in her side had sharpened, but Misaki forced herself to run forward, her eyes peeled for telltale droplets of blood on the ground.

But before she’d made it even five yards, another shot rang out. With a surprised gasp, she threw herself to the ground. It went wide, striking the tunnel wall behind her to the right. Misaki tightened her grip on her weapon, her mind racing. She was completely exposed; armed, but with no visible target. Gritting her teeth, she remained where she was, stretched out in the middle of the road, and lifted her gun with both hands.

An access door slammed open to her left. Misaki pushed herself up to one knee, swinging her gun around to face the new threat.

“Chief!” Kouno’s worried face appeared in the doorway, his weapon drawn. “I’ll cover you!”

Without waiting for an answer, Misaki’s subordinate fired a blind shot down the empty tunnel. Misaki used the cover to jump to her feet and make a dash to the access door. A returning shot whizzed by her, closer than the first but still wide. Kouno swore, fired again, and Misaki dived through the doorway and into the narrow service tunnel beyond.

Kouno pulled the door closed behind them; a bullet ricocheted off the heavy steel frame as it slammed shut.

“You okay, Chief?”

Misaki removed her hand from her side self-consciously. Her heart was pounding so hard it was almost impossible to catch her breath. “Fine,” she said curtly. “Give the unit at the tunnel entrance a warning; HG-139 is headed their way, invisible and armed.”

Kouno relayed the warning, then added to Misaki, “Didn’t expect him to be arm with something so conventional.”

“Yeah, me either. Were you able to reach Tou?”

Her subordinate’s expression turned grim. “No. But we found her.”

The body was in the sunken park beneath the pedestrian bridge. The garrote was still wrapped around her neck, a wire biting into the flesh. Not all of the blood had dried yet. Her limbs were splayed at odd angles and pool of blood was still spreading beneath her head. Her wide, staring eyes made it clear however that there was no life left in the officer.

“He threw her from the bridge after strangling her,” Misaki observed, allowing her cop’s instincts to kick in and take over. She’d deal with her emotional response later.

“The meet was a setup after all,” Kouno said. “The handler lured her out for the contractor to grab her.”

Misaki didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Detective Murai trotted up, radio in hand.

“Any word from the blockade?” Misaki asked, drawing in a deep breath at last. Now that she was no longer moving, she could feel the chilly air biting through her blouse; she’d left her jacket in the van with her radio. She shivered.

He shook his head. “Not a sign of him; he must have slipped by. But there’s worse news.”

She braced herself. “What is it?”

“The detail on Tamade’s Chitose warehouse just called in - there was an explosion inside. It’s burning; emergency crews are on the way.”

What little energy she had left drained away at his words. Between the fire and the water from the firefighters, there would be nothing left worth saving.

“Well, at least we know where the subnet servers were stored,” she said, refusing to let her defeat show. “We need to get this scene processed. Murai, it’s your show now.”

Folding her arms, she excused herself from the team and paced away into the darkness of the park to throw up in solitude.

 

~~~~o~~~~

Aisha was already asleep when Misaki finally returned to their hotel room. The contractor was snoring softly on top of one of the two queen beds. Misaki couldn’t remember ever envying a contractor; but she did tonight. All she wanted to do now was curl up under the covers of her own bed and forget everything from the past few hours. It would be impossible though; the best that she could hope for was an hour or two of sleep before they had to leave for the airport in the morning, and she knew that she wouldn’t get even that.

With a tired sigh, she stripped off her shoes, jacket, and gun. Leaving them on top of her bed, she headed into the bathroom and shut the door.

The stitch in her side hadn’t let up at all; even ginger movements were almost too much, and for a brief moment she actually considered just showering in her blouse and bra. But she managed to undress at last. Turning the temperature up as high as she could stand it, she stepped carefully underneath the hot spray.

She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the incongruously cold tile of the shower wall as the water steamed around her. Tou’s body was laid out before her mind’s eye, limp and broken. And it was Misaki’s fault.

The death of a fellow officer always hit her hard, but this was the first time that _she_ _’d_ been directly responsible. That Tou had ignored a direct order didn’t matter. She should never have allowed the officer to participate in the operation - it was too risky. She’d _known_ it was too risky, known exactly how dangerous and how capable HG-139 was, known how eager Tou was to redeem herself from her betrayal of the police - yet she’d gone ahead anyway and allowed it anyway.

She had no excuse for herself; the thought of potentially capturing Abo and the handler had been too tempting to let go of. Maybe Kaede was right. Maybe she was thinking too much like a contractor. 

Her hair hung heavy down her back. Misaki ran her fingers through it idly, the hot spray almost stinging wherever it hit bare skin.

Even worse had been returning to the hotel conference room to tell Tou’s son what had happened to his mother. As a member of the same local department, Murai had done most of the talking; but ultimately it had been Misaki’s responsibility and she hadn’t excused herself from it.

She remembered the boy’s blank, emotionless expression as she’d sat next to him on the couch and explained in a straightforward and perfunctory way. He hadn’t said a word; just sat silently as tears streamed down his cheeks. It would have been better if he’d shouted, swung a fist, even. Misaki wouldn’t have ducked. But he hadn’t. He’d simply listened to the news, then tuned her out completely, alone in a private world of grief.

Misaki turned her face into the spray, then cupped her hands over her eyes and cheeks. It was impossible tell whether the wet tracks running down her cheeks were from the spray of the shower, or tears. That was the way she preferred it.

Unbidden, her mind recalled that night in the basement of the Syndicate’s bar, where she’d first seen Hei as himself. She’d asked why he had risked himself needlessly to protect a patrolman from another contractor. His answer, so simple and so confusing, had been, _I knew you would be hurt if another officer was killed_.

Sometimes she missed him so much it hurt. All she wanted right now was for him to warp her in his arms and tell her that it was okay to feel this way; that he understood. She knew, somehow, that he _would_ understand.

Another sharp pain in her side forced her eyes shut. She pressed her forehead against the cold tile wall until it had passed. When she opened them again, it was just in time to catch the fall of a bright red droplet. It tinged the water slightly pink before swirling away down the drain. She closed her eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

Misaki stepped out of the hospital, the automatic doors of the ER hissing shut behind her. It was even colder now in the early hours of the morning; she wrapped her jacket around herself and gazed at the dark, gray-tinged sky to the east.

It was strange to look east and not see the camouflaged wall of the Gate towering over the city; she found she missed its presence. She missed _her_ city, with its familiar streets, familiar people, familiar politics. She knew who she was there.

At least, she had.

“You didn’t get hit tonight.”

Misaki started, her hand reflexively moved towards her weapon before she recognized Aisha’s voice.

The contractor was slouched on a bench just to the right of the doors, hands stuffed in her pockets. She stared blandly up at Misaki from under the brim of her ever-present ballcap. “I saw you leave the room,” she said by way of explanation. “I followed.”

“You’ve been waiting out here the whole time?” Misaki stepped over to the bench and seated herself gingerly next to the other woman. She was too tired to be surprised that she’d never picked up the tail; watching her back had been the furthest thing from her mind on the quarter-mile walk to the hospital.

 Aisha shrugged in response and continued to watch her expectantly.

Misaki sighed and leaned forward on her elbows, resting her forehead in her hands. “No, I didn’t get hit; it was something else. I’m fine now.”

The baby was fine, anyway. Misaki herself couldn’t be further from.

After three hours of fluids and monitoring, the ER physician had released her with a strong admonishment to limit her caffeine intake, her physical activity, and her stress. The caffeine she could manage; she didn’t know what she was supposed to do about the other two. Waiting behind or on the sidelines while others risked themselves on her behalf was not something that Misaki wanted to do - or even knew how.

She was responsible for so many people below her in the police hierarchy, not to mention all of the innocent citizens that she’d sworn to protect. Now there was one more potential life, one that needed her best efforts to take care of _herself_. She had never felt so fragile before, and it frightened her.

She and Aisha sat in silence as long minutes stretched away. Misaki wasn’t sure why the contractor was there, but didn’t feel like sending her away. It was nice to have some quiet company; it reminded her of Hei.

“I have a question,” Aisha said a last.

“Everyone does,” Misaki replied wearily.

“Were you upset about that woman dying?”

Misaki pushed aside the flood of guilt and regret. “Of course I was! Even a contractor should understand that.”

“Oh. It’s just that you didn’t act like humans usually do when someone gets killed. You know, crying and stuff. You acted very rationally and ordered people around instead.”

“I still had a job to do.”

The contractor eyed her. “Kouno said that you just act like that to hide how much you care about people.”

Misaki blinked. She never tried to _hide_ anything; but displaying weakness in front of her subordinates wasn’t something that she could afford.

“I thought he was wrong at first,” Aisha said, continuing to watch her face under the harsh lights of the emergency room portico, “but I think now maybe he’s right.”

“I have a leadership role,” Misaki said, but her protest was half-hearted. “It’s important that people see me maintaining a level head, regardless of my personal feelings.”

“So you _were_ upset when that officer died?”

“Yes.”

“Why? She was working with the Syndicate; she only switched sides because she got caught.”

“It was more complicated than that,” Misaki said. “ _People_ are more complicated than that. She made a choice that went against her morals because she thought it was the best way to protect her son. It must have been itching at her conscious for years; this was her opportunity to make up for what she did that was wrong. It’s something that almost every human can relate to. She didn’t deserve to die because of it.”

“Is that why your father turned himself in?”

Misaki rubbed her temple tiredly. “I don’t know. Maybe. He hasn’t talked to me since then.”

Aisha turned to stare at her feet. “Would you do it?”

“Do what?”

“What Officer Tou did. Break the law to protect someone else. You don’t have a son; your father, maybe?”

Misaki slipped her hands into her coat pockets and rested them on her belly. “Would I break the law? If it was to protect someone, of course; a person’s life is more important than words on a piece of paper.” She sighed. “Would I make the same choice as Tou and assist criminals, if I was in her position? I don’t know.”

Aisha frowned. “You don’t know?”

“It’s impossible to say unless I _do_ find myself in that position.” Misaki thought again of the handler with the incriminating photographs and the relief she had felt at realizing he’d slipped through their fingers tonight, and a fresh surge of self-loathing rose up. “Sometimes, there are no good choices; only hard ones.”

The contractor tilted her head. “I don’t think you would. Saitou says you always do the right thing.”

“ _Saitou_ says that?” He was the one who knew about her affair with a wanted killer, after all. She didn’t deserve his good opinion. “Why are my subordinates all talking behind my back, anyway?”

“I ask them questions; I’m trying to understand.”

“Understand what?”

Aisha bit her lip; after a long moment’s hesitation, she said, “No one in the police trusts me because I’m a contractor. The others in Section Four only do because you tell them too. So why do you?”

Misaki considered before answering, idly watching the trees across the street sway in a gentle breeze. “I suppose, it’s because I believe your motivations to help us will keep you trustworthy. Until they don’t. But until then, I have no reason not to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Is that why you trusted BK-201 too?”

Misaki glanced over at Aisha; there was a suspicious twist to her mouth.

“Because I know his reputation,” the contractor continued. ”Everyone in the Syndicate did. Whether it was true or not, who would trust a person like that?”

“I knew Hei’s reputation too; or at least rumors of it. But I trusted him for the same reasons I trust you.”

Aisha looked as if she needed more than that, so Misaki added the line that she told everyone. “He could have killed me more than once; he didn’t, even though it would have been the rational thing to do. That was enough.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Misaki turned to the contractor in surprise.

“That’s an emotional reason; but you’re more rational than most humans. Almost like a contractor. I don’t think that reason would be enough for you.”

Misaki wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not. “Why is it so important that you know?”

“I’m putting myself at risk to help you uncover the last of the Syndicate. What if _I_ _’m_ on Abo’s list?”

“I don’t think they know -”

“Not yet. But what if they do find out? Why would someone like you trust someone like me or BK-201?”

Misaki leaned back against the bench. “The night I stumbled into his operation, his handler told him to kill me.”

“And he didn’t, he just erased your memory. Kouno told me.”

“He didn’t erase my memory. I lied about that.”

“Why?” Aisha demanded.

“Because he asked me to.” She sighed. “He was trying to protect someone else. A doll. It didn’t make any sense for him to let me live at all, let alone with my memory intact, but _he_ trusted _me_ first. All I did was return the favor. He never broke his end of the deal; that’s why I continued to trust him. Contractors aren’t all that different from people,” she added. “Anyone can break your trust; but you give them the benefit of the doubt until they prove you wrong. That’s all it is. I don’t know why it’s so hard for other people to grasp.”

“Contractors didn’t betray me and throw me in prison for a year; that was humans.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

Aisha didn’t answer; for once the normally chatty contractor seemed lost in her own thoughts. Together, they sat in silence and watched the sky slowly turn pink, then orange, then blue as the sun rose.


	19. Chapter 19

**May 9, 2008**

The morning of the funeral was bright, clear, and cold.

 _It should be pouring down rain_ , Misaki thought, tilting her gaze upwards to watch a lone, puffy white cloud drift across the blue sky. The trees lining the temple lawn were leafing out, the grass a vibrant, spring green. Pumps had been a mistake; her narrow heels had already sunk a few centimeters into the soft earth where she stood.

At least there was still a chill in the air; it gave her an excuse to wear her dark rain jacket and cover up the fact that her dress uniform's skirt no longer zipped all the way up.

She'd chosen a place in the very back of the crowd of uniformed officers, away from the curious looks and scrutiny. No one in Sapporo knew her except for the local Section Four team - and those who recognized her from her televised press conferences. Only Detective Murai had caught her eye, and given her a polite nod. The others - Tou's friends and colleagues from Criminal Investigations - were complete strangers and thus generally ignored her.

Which was fine. She wasn't here for them.

The temple priest continued his speech, uttering the same platitudes that she'd heard at every police funeral she'd attended over her career. She'd been to far too many.

Misaki returned her gaze to the front row, where a skinny boy in glasses sat clutching a polished urn. He was flanked by an elderly couple, the man in a black suit that matched the boy's, the woman in a black kimono. Misaki wasn't sure if they were Tou's parents or in-laws, but the woman hadn't raised her head from her black lace handkerchief even once since the internment ceremony had started; Misaki had a pretty good guess who they were.

She watched as the elderly man reached over and gently squeezed the boy's shoulder, and was suddenly, starkly reminded of another funeral.

It had been snowing, then; just a few days after Christmas. Misaki's tenth birthday, in fact. Her father had tried his best to schedule the service for another day, but the temple hadn't had any other openings. It had been a hard year for a lot of people, apparently.

She sat silently in the front row, listening to the priest drone on; but all she heard was the snow storm blowing outside the temple.

The urn that contained her mother's ashes rested in the center of the altar, out of reach yet somehow consuming her entire field of vision. She had thought that she'd cried herself out over the past week, thought that it couldn't be possible for her eyes to hold even one more teardrop. Yet gazing at the pale blue urn patterned with waves - Mom had grown up by the sea, she loved the ocean waves - and knowing that the only thing left of her mother's smile, her laugh, her warm hugs, was a pile of dry gray ashes in a cold jar started her sobbing all over again.

Before the cremation, Misaki had placed a wooden ornament carved in the shape of a seashell in the casket, to be burned with her mother. She'd bought it with her allowance for the tiny fake Christmas tree that Dad had set up on the table next to Mom's bed in the hospital. It wasn't enough. How could a stupid Christmas ornament ever be enough?

Misaki wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her kimono in an attempt to stem the flood of tears. She didn't want her father to be worried about her; he had grief enough of his own. But it didn't help, and her great aunt tugged her arm back down to her side, quietly tutting about propriety. Misaki didn't care about propriety. She hadn't even wanted to wear a stupid kimono; a black dress would have been better. Mom wouldn't have minded if it wasn't traditional, but Aunt Mariko had insisted. Mariko had taken care of most of the funeral arrangements; her father had hardly been able to eat the past few days, let alone speak to anyone about business matters.

Dad was holding Misaki's other hand. He hadn't let go since the start of the ceremony, squeezing so tightly that Misaki could hardly feel her fingers anymore. But she didn't complain. She was just glad that he was there.

Her father. Misaki sighed, returning her mind to the present and wrapped her rain coat more tightly around herself. He hadn't spoken to her weeks, ignoring her calls whenever she tried to reach out. She knew he was alright; she checked in regularly with the security detail that was monitoring his activity while he was on house arrest. Everything was normal at his apartment. Apparently he just didn't want to have anything to do with her any longer. Or her soon-to-be child.

The boy's grandfather patted his shoulder lightly before returning his hand to his side, and a tear escaped down Misaki's cheek. She wiped it away hurriedly on her sleeve. Hormones; that's all it was.

Who would be there to comfort her nameless, faceless child at her own funeral?

Her breath came in a ragged shudder, and she pushed the thought aside angrily. Angry at herself for even considering the possibility.

It was time to go; she'd stayed too long. She shouldn't have come in the first place.

As the priest motioned the boy and his grandparents to come forward to receive condolences, Misaki turned away - and noticed with a start that another guest had positioned himself a few paces behind her, partially hidden behind an elm. A man. A man in a black overcoat.

For a brief, ecstatic moment her heart leapt. Then she realized that it was the wrong sort of coat; the wrong sort of build. _Then_ she recognized Toda Toru, and her eyes narrowed. If _she_ didn't belong here, he certainly didn't.

"Director," the reporter called quietly, "If I could have a moment -"

Misaki shoved her hands into her pockets, squared her shoulders, and strode past him without saying a word.

~~~~o~~~~

"Thanks for the ride," Misaki said as she shifted a stack of papers and an old fast food bag to the back seat before sliding into the passenger seat of Kanami's ten-year-old Suzuki.

"Sorry about the mess," Kanami told her, reaching over to help. "I've been trying to keep it cleaner, but work has been pretty hectic this week."

"You should see my car," Misaki sighed. "I'm pretty much used to it now. But I still could've walked - it's only five blocks home from the train station," she couldn't help adding.

She settled her overnight bag on the floor between her feet. This second trip to Sapporo had been less than twenty-four hours - an early morning red eye out and late evening flight back - but her dress uniform was far too uncomfortable to travel in. Especially now. She'd managed to get to the airport early enough to quickly change into some loose slacks.

Kanami waved a hand carelessly, pulling away from the curb and into the airport traffic one-handed. "Why walk when you don't have to? And the trains are always packed in the evenings; I don't mind."

Misaki leaned back against the seat. She _was_ pretty tired, and her back had been aching this past week; it was nice to have a lift. "Wait, aren't you usually at Astronomics on Friday nights?"

"Usually, yeah. Akimoto is covering my desk tonight; I'm on call if anything comes up."

She said it offhandedly, but Misaki wasn't fooled. Kanami had just taken a full weekend away from the lab and her mediums to spend time with her girlfriend - a feat Sekine probably had no idea how difficult to accomplish - and now she was taking another Friday night off?

"I do appreciate the ride," Misaki said gently, "but you didn't need to. I can walk five blocks."

Her friend sighed. "I know. Indulge me, alright?"

A sour bubble of guilt rose up in Misaki's stomach. "Yeah. Alright. Hey, you're taking _me_ home, remember?" she pointed out as Kanami swung her Suzuki left onto the route that would take them to her own apartment rather than Misaki's.

"Yep," Kanami said. "You're spending the night at my place."

"I am?"

"Don't argue. We haven't had a chance to really sit and talk in weeks, and," she added almost tentatively, "you've been extra stressed lately. I worry about you sometimes, spending every night alone. Especially with HG-139 still running around. He's been quiet since the Sapporo operation, but he's definitely back in the Tokyo area."

"He has no reason to come after me, personally," Misaki said. Especially now that they'd hit another wall in the investigation. Though sometimes when she was falling asleep at night, she could still hear that cold, rasping voice in her ear and a gunshot echoing through an empty tunnel.

"Sure. But even the possibility…" The car rolled to a stop at a traffic light, the red bleeding in through the windshield. Kanami propped her elbow on the window sill and leaned her head in her hand. "You're pretty good at not letting remote possibilities like that bother you. I'm not trying to mother you or anything, I promise - but you're always taking care of other people at the expense of yourself. You need to stop and take care of _yourself_ sometimes. I just kinda feel like someone needs to be reminding you of that, you know?"

"Yeah." The light turned green. Misaki watched absently as the lights of the city rushed past.

"And I know that the doctor said that the spotting wasn't anything to be concerned about. But I _know_ losing this pregnancy would devastate you, even if you pretend like it won't."

"Yeah," Misaki said again, a little surprised at how easy it was to accept the truth of Kanami's words. "I - I know." She hesitated. "I'm going to do a better job from now on. Yesterday I filed my paperwork with HR, requesting maternity leave for October and November. And on Monday at my meeting with Superintendent Kan, I'm going to tell him that I'll be reducing my time in the field."

"Really?" Kanami turned her gaze from the road long enough to beam at Misaki. "That must have been a tough decision - I'm proud of you!"

"It was. I'm going to go crazy, chained to my desk all day." She sighed, the sour knot still sitting in her stomach. "But it's necessary. I, um, had to go to the emergency room last week. In Sapporo."

Kanami narrowly avoided rear-ending the Datsun in front of them. "What? Misaki, what happened? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Overexertion." Misaki shrugged in a poor attempt at nonchalance. "I was pushing myself too hard. And in the end it didn't matter. Officer Tou still died."

"That wasn't your fault. You know it wasn't."

"Maybe it wasn't my fault, but that operation _was_ my responsibility."

They'd arrived at Kanami's building. Neither one said anything more as Kanami pulled her car into her parking space in the garage and they climbed out. Misaki followed her friend upstairs.

Kanami's apartment was just as warm and cheerful as it always was, though there were some subtle changes. It seemed a bit tidier than usual - no clean laundry piled haphazardly on the sofa or empty takeout cartons stacked on the coffee table. Misaki tried to remember the last time that she'd been over. Probably not since the night of the Gate Relief Fund gala in late February, after she'd nearly died and Hei had killed a woman to save her. At least now she knew why she'd been so overly emotional that night.

A few new photos had been pinned to the wall above the television, Misaki noticed. She walked over for a closer look. There were five that she hadn't seen before, all featuring a woman in a cute pixie haircut who Misaki just barely remembered from the gala. In one of the photos, she was wearing the same hot pink cocktail dress as she had been that night, standing cheek-to-cheek with Kanami. Both were wearing huge smiles and even larger fake sunglasses, despite clearly being indoors.

"That was last weekend," Kanami said, coming over to join her by the wall. "The Science Museum threw a party to celebrate Greenery Day. We planted trees in the afternoon, then had dinner, cocktails, and dancing in the exhibit halls."

"The Science Museum?" Misaki had no idea that museums threw parties.

Kanami raised an eyebrow. "What? Hana's a doctor, I'm an astrophysicist - we're nerds!" She grinned. "Go put your pjs on, I'll make some tea."

Misaki _had_ packed her pajamas - you never knew when a flight would be delayed or canceled - so she wandered into the tiny bathroom to change. The countertops were completely bare of makeup and hair accessories, something that Misaki had never witnessed in her entire friendship with Kanami. Sekine's influence, perhaps? she wondered as she pulled on her comfy, drawstring sweatpants. It was a little strange, seeing these small but significant changes in her best friend's life, triggered by a person Misaki barely knew. Like she was being pushed to the edges, supplanted by a stranger. She _knew_ that that wasn't what was happening; but she couldn't help the feeling. Had Kanami felt this way about Misaki and Hei's relationship? It wasn't like the three of them had been able to spend any time together, get to know each other as friends.

She would make an effort to meet Sekine, Misaki vowed. She owed Kanami that much, at least.

Kanami had two mugs of tea waiting when Misaki emerged from the bathroom. "It's ginger," she said. "I know your morning sickness has pretty much gone away, but _oh my god Misaki!_ "

"What?" Misaki said in alarm, but Kanami had her hand over her mouth, her smile spilling over the edges.

"I'm sorry," Kanami said, still attempting to hide her smile. "This is the first time I've seen you where you _actually_ look pregnant! I can't help get excited…"

"Oh." Misaki self-consciously placed her hand on her expanding stomach. Her tee shirt, which had formerly been rather loose on her, now stretched tightly over her belly and she had a definite muffin top. "Do I really look pregnant already? I just feel…overweight." Though, Yuri had spotted it right away, in Sapporo.

"In normal clothes, not really - you do a good job of hiding it. But I can definitely see that baby bump taking shape, ooh!"

Misaki couldn't help smiling as she settled onto the sofa next to her friend. It was a strange feeling, knowing that someone was genuinely happy for her, when she had so much trouble being happy for herself. It was nice. "For someone who doesn't want kids, you get awfully excited about them."

"What, I love kids! And pregnancy is such a fascinating process, you know? I just don't really want my _own_ body hijacked by another lifeform."

Misaki made a face. "Thanks for putting it that way." She sighed and settled back against the cushions. The mug of tea warmed her hands pleasantly. "So it sounds like you and Sekine had a good weekend?"

"Yeah, it was fun. It was the longest we've spent together so far, which is always a little nerve-wracking, you know? But things went well. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

Kanami took a long sip of tea before answering. "Hana got a little pissed at me, about halfway through the weekend. But it was my own fault. Anyway, we talked about it, and we're fine now."

"What happened?" Misaki was starting to get the sense that this sleepover was more for Kanami's benefit than hers, and felt slightly ashamed that she hadn't been trying harder to keep up with their friendship. It wasn't fair to place the burden of effort so much on Kanami.

"Nothing, really. I just…kept checking in with Astronomics for updates on HG-139. Hana had to apply for special permission to be relieved of on-call duty for those three days, because we were just supposed to be focused on each other. But I couldn't stop checking my phone. It wasn't fair to her."

"Mizuta was on top of things," Misaki told her. "There was nothing else you could have done; especially without a doll network in Sapporo."

"I know. But I can't help worrying, and when I'm worried, I need to _do_ something about it." She sighed, and took another sip of tea. "I had this idea…I haven't really thought it through yet. I haven't had time. But I couldn't explain to Hana what was distracting me."

Misaki gave her a sympathetic frown. "You could have told her you were worried about the operation without giving the details - the fact that Astronomics tracks contractors' stars is public knowledge now, if not exactly how."

"But _dolls_ aren't," Kanami pointed out. "And my idea…we're really limited to the network we have in place here in Tokyo. That gives us wide coverage, and high resolution - but real-time data is harder to come by, and we don't have a lot of flexibility, not like we would with a single reconnaissance medium. Someone like Yin."

Misaki did frown this time. "What do you mean?"

"If you could have taken a doll with you to Sapporo - Eunice maybe, she's coming along well now - maybe you could have tracked HG-139 without relying on his star. And caught him before he had a chance to hurt anyone."

 _That_ was an intriguing idea. Misaki had often envied the working relationship that Hei and Yin had, and wondered how it would change Section Four's operations if they had their own doll. But she'd never considered that it would actually be possible. Dolls were so fragile, and reconnaissance packages weren't cheap. A doll like Yin, though, who had achieved some measure of independence…

"I should have started working on this problem weeks ago," Kanami continued. "But things were picking up with Hana…I just can't get a handle on my priorities anymore. Hana has to leave her patients in other hands in order to make time for me; how can I tell her that I need to work overtime on _programming_?"

"Your patients are just as human as hers," Misaki reminded her gently. "And they need you. Even if it's just to write some new code."

Kanami sighed. "I know. But I can't _tell_ her that. It's classified. I don't know how you and Li managed your relationship for so long, having to keep so many secrets."

Misaki squeezed the mug between her hands. "It helped after you found out about it. It helped a lot, actually." She paused, thinking. Sekine couldn't be told about dolls; she was a civilian without any kind of security clearance. But maybe hearing from someone else how important Kanami's work was would go some way to helping her understand. "I've been thinking - I'd really like to get to know Sekine better. Maybe we can set up a lunch or something soon?"

"Really?" Kanami's smile lit up her face. "I'd like that - and she wants to meet you too. I'll try and set something up - though it might be a week or two. She's moving to the day shift in a few days, and that'll throw her whole schedule off. But once she settles in it'll be easier to find time."

Misaki smiled. "That sounds good."

They sipped their tea in silence for several long minutes. Then Misaki said, "I wish you could have gotten to know Hei better, before he had to leave."

"Yeah, me too. I did have fun hanging out with him and Yin at the aquarium."

Misaki's brow furrowed. "Aquarium?"

"Yeah - I had Hiroshi for the day; we ran into them just as we were leaving, and went down to the water for a while so Yin could see it, and Hiroshi could catch crabs."

"Right. I remember him telling me that he'd seen you; he made it sound like it was just in passing though." She frowned. "He killed a contractor there."

Kanami blanched at that last comment; then her face suddenly lit up again. "I have something for you - I keep forgetting it! Hang on." She jumped off the couch and disappeared into her bedroom. Misaki heard what sounded like several books being tossed onto the floor, and tried not to wince. A few minutes later, Kanami was back.

"I managed to get this," she said, handing Misaki a four-by-six photograph. "I know, I shouldn't have taken it; and I shouldn't have printed it. But I thought you might like it."

Misaki gazed at the image in her hands, hardly able to breathe.

Hei was crouched at the water's edge. She recognized the little boy opposite him as Kanami's nephew - though he'd been _half_ that size the last time she'd seen him. Hei's hands were cupped around Hiroshi's, an expression of wonder on the boy's face as he gazed at whatever he was holding.

It was the first time she'd seen Hei's face in two months. It felt like two years. Two decades.

"He was so good with Hiroshi," Kanami said. "The kid keeps asking about him - calls him _crab man_ ," she grinned.

Misaki couldn't tear her eyes away from the photo. His face was in profile; though she couldn't see his full expression, she could tell he wasn't smiling, exactly. But there was such a softness there that it was easy, _so_ _easy_ to imagine that it was their own son he was gazing up at.

"Oh, sweetie, come here." Kanami pulled Misaki into a hug as the tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she managed at last, sniffling. "Hormones."

"I know."


	20. Chapter 20

**May 12, 2008**

“Please explain to me what I’m looking at, Director Kirihara.”

Misaki refrained from pointing out the obvious; she could see that the Superintendent still hadn’t finished his first cup of coffee and would be in no mood for flippancy. _Next_ to that cup, that morning’s copy of _Yomiuri Shimbun_ was sitting on the desk in front of him. Even upside-down from her perspective, the headline was clear: _Escalation of contractor violence leaves four seriously injured in Shinjuku_.

“It was an isolated incident,” she said. “Nothing is _escalating_.”

“That’s not what it says here.”

“It was just one contractor, who didn’t feel the need to wait for a credit check. My team was on site within five minutes and apprehended her. No one had to be hospitalized overnight; the owner and his family are downstairs giving their official statements right now. He lost about half of his used car inventory, but that’s all.”

“That’s not what it says _here_ ,” Kan repeated, pointing at the headline to emphasize his words.

Misaki shifted her weight impatiently, wishing that she hadn’t worn her pumps again - and that she’d taken him up on his offer of a seat. “That reporter -”

“Did you give him a statement?”

“Well, no. I’d only just gotten back from Hokkaido -”

“Hokkaido. Ms. Tou’s funeral.” Kan flipped a couple of pages over, where a headline read _Section Four operation in Sapporo goes badly wrong, resulting in the death of an officer_. “I see Mr. Toda was there. As were you. Why?”

A dressing-down was not how she had expected to start the week. Especially not from Kan, who thus far had had a fairly hands-off approach to her supervision. But this morning his tone, coupled with a fresh, severe buzz cut, was putting her on the defensive. “Officer Tou died during an operation that I was supervising,” she answered quietly. “I owed it to her to be there.”

“No. You owed it to her to do your job.”

“I -” she began to protest, but Kan cut her off.

“You are the Director of Foreign Affairs, not just the Chief of Section Four.” He tapped the headline with a finger. “It is _not_ your job to personally oversee every field operation or to arrest every contractor that enters the city.” His tone softened a bit - only a bit - and he added, “What happened in Sapporo wasn’t your fault, and you’ll never see me questioning decisions made in the field. But this -” another jab at the paper - “ _is_ your fault. At least he didn’t make the connection to the warehouse fire. Rumors of contractor-planted bombs is the last thing we need right now.”

The reassurances about Tou were only making her feel worse; but how were these articles her fault? “I can’t control what a reporter writes, especially since the facts are technically true. Not without a court order.” Which Kan had steadfastly refused to let her pursue.

Her superior leaned back in his chair and regarded her flatly. “Hourai always said that you were an exceptionally capable leader and should be the first one considered for his position when he eventually retired.”

Misaki had to struggle to suppress a surge of loathing. “With respect, sir, Hourai was a criminal conspirator who was planning the deaths of thousands of people. I really don’t care what his opinion of me was.”

“Good, because I’m beginning to think he was wrong.”

She blinked in surprise. “Sir?”

“You are displaying a decided lack of ability to see the larger picture.”

“The larger…”

“Rooting out the remaining Syndicate members is Section Four’s number one priority, as it should be. But that branch has been top secret for a long time, and you’ve been isolated there. Out of touch with the people that you exist to protect. As Director of Foreign Affairs, _your_ priority is public security. And right now,” he said, lifting the newspaper and dropping it into the trash beside his desk, “the public does not feel secure.”

“But there isn’t any escalating violence,” Misaki protested. “Toda -”

“Writes to confirm what people already believe. Because you’ve given him no reason to do otherwise.”

Misaki pursed her lips, unsure how to respond. Did Kan expect her to babysit a reporter, to somehow cajole him into showing the police in a better light? She wasn’t a goddamn _handler_.

“Why did you take it upon yourself to hold that press conference in March, Director Kirihara?”

“Because…I knew we’d never be able to continue hiding the existence of contractors after the attack on the Gate. I wanted to take control of the situation, and ensure that the public knew about them, so that people would stand up and protest if someone like the Syndicate ever tried to commit genocide against them again.”

“And do you feel you’ve succeeded in that?”

“It’s only been two months…” Misaki began before trailing off. She saw now where Kan was going with this. It _had_ only been two months; but public opinion wasn’t moving in the direction that she had wanted. And she was doing nothing about it.

Kan nodded, seeing her understanding. “You called that press conference; you decided that it was time the public learned about contractors. _You_ need to deal with this.”

“Yes, sir.”

He slid a new folder in front of him and opened it. “I see you’ve requested two months’ leave beginning in October.”

Misaki took a deep breath. “Yes, sir. And I’d like to reduce my time in the field between now and then.”

“Good. You’re spending too much time directly overseeing operations as it is. You need to trust your people, Director. If you can’t trust them to carry out their orders, then you have a more fundamental problem.” Kan closed the folder. “You expect to be back full time in December?”

“Yes, sir.”

The Superintendent nodded. “I won’t announce the appointee for the permanent Director position before October. But turn this PR fiasco around before then and it will be waiting for you when you get back.”

It took Misaki a long moment to process what he’d just said. “Sir?”

“We’ll have to sit down and consider how best to transition Section Four’s leadership, of course. Otherwise your appointment should go smoothly.”

“The other section chiefs…”

“Will deal with it. Public relations may not be one of your skills yet, but you do excel at convincing people to follow where you lead. The other chiefs will be on board with the decision by October, I’m sure. Hell, you were able to get BK-201 of all people to trust you.”

Misaki wanted to protest that that had been mostly an accident; it wasn’t as if she’d gone out actively trying to recruit him. They’d just…crossed paths, and ended up on the same road together. It was more fate than anything.

Then she remembered what she’d told Aisha: he _had_ trusted her first, on the basis of nothing more than a couple of brief interactions. It wasn’t until after the trust had been mutual - and tested - that they’d started a real relationship.

Maybe Kan was right. Partially, at least. Chief Jouda would never sign on with her as Director.

“Yes, sir,” was all she said.

She left the office feeling completely off-balance, as she usually did after her meetings with Kan. She’d expected…well, she didn’t know what she’d expected. Some kind of comment on her reason for taking leave, perhaps. Less censure for attending Tou’s funeral. Certainly not the promise of the directorship.

Did she even _want_ the job? she wondered as she waited for the elevator to take her down to the fifth floor and her team. Because they were still her team, at least for now. If she moved to the twelfth floor permanently, she’d be merely directing their new chief, not working with them on a daily basis. She’d miss that.

But a promotion would mean a higher paycheck; maybe she would be able to afford to move into a two-bedroom apartment, have a little extra space. She could even work from home occasionally; that would help, especially since she hadn’t even started looking for a solution to what she would do once her maternity leave was up.

It would be mostly desk work. Desk work bored her to tears.

An image of Tou’s son clutching his mother’s urn flashed through her mind.

Desk work was safer.

Or was this just her father again, manipulating her career even from house arrest? She remembered his look of pride at telling her she was on her way to being the NPA’s first female superintendent…and his disappointment when she’d turned down the last promotion she’d been offered. She hadn’t been ready then; she wasn’t ready now. Alice had died last time; now Tou. Because of orders _she_ _’d_ given. How could she so easily take on more responsibility, after that?

Kan _was_ right about one thing: Toda Toru and the picture of contractors that he was painting for the public was her responsibility. She was going to have to figure out how to deal with that, Misaki decided as the elevator doors opened to the fifth floor lobby - and absolute chaos.

 

Misaki pressed a hand to her temple from the sheer noise of the open room. The Interpol team were at their stations to the left as usual, but Gmerek and Francesca were each speaking animatedly on their cell phones as if trying to talk over one another, while Navid was noisily flipping through a stack of printouts and muttering to himself. The phone on his desk was ringing yet going completely ignored.

Section Four’s side was even worse. Saitou was also on the phone, speaking loudly with one finger in his ear. Next to his desk, Matsumoto was seated with a dark-haired man in a moderately respectable business suit. The man was clearly a foreigner, with coloring a little darker than Aisha’s. He was explaining something to Matsumoto in halting Japanese, gesticulating broadly with his arms whenever words failed him. Matsumoto interrupted with frequent questions, which the man merely talked over. One of his hands was bandaged, but that didn’t seem to affect his ability to talk.

Kouno, on the other hand, wasn’t saying a word. He was standing with a look of dumb shock while a woman in some sort of traditional Middle Eastern dress with a scarf around her head harangued him with a steady, angry stream of Japanese intermixed with a language that Misaki didn’t recognize. A toddler was clutching at her skirt speaking gibberish while an even younger child cried on her hip. The woman was ignoring both.

For the first time in weeks, Misaki was glad that her office was nowhere near the fifth floor.

Aisha was gazing warily at the woman from her seat two desks away. Misaki walked over to her.

“These are the people whose business was attacked?” she asked. “Sid…Siddi?”

“Siddiqi,” Aisha nodded. “Mr. Siddiqi almost broke his wrist when a car flipped over right next to him. I think Mrs. Siddiqi is more upset about the damage to the cars, though.”

Mrs. Siddiqi had seen Misaki enter the room; she turned to where she stood near Aisha and gestured towards them without once pausing for breath. There wasn’t enough Japanese in whatever she was saying for Misaki to follow.

Aisha slouched lower in her chair and stared at her feet. “She reminds me of my sister.”

Misaki blinked. The contractor had never mentioned having any family before. “Your sister?”

“She doesn’t like my hat.”

“Your sister, or Mrs. Siddiqi?”

“Her.” Aisha jerked her chin towards the woman. “But my sister always hated it when I wore hats instead of a shayla.”

“A…”

“Shayla. What she’s wearing.”

“Wait - Mrs. Siddiqi is complaining to Kouno about your hat - you can understand what she’s saying?”

“Of course. It’s Urdu,” Aisha said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Misaki sighed and pressed her fingers to her temple. “Go talk to her.”

The contractor’s eyes widened. “ _Talk_ to her?”

“Yes - go help Kouno understand what she’s saying. She’s just a woman with a baby, you’ll be fine.”

“But -”

“Are you part of this team or not?” Misaki snapped. She did not need this today.

Aisha frowned, but after a moment she rose to her feet and shuffled over to Kouno and Mrs. Siddiqi. Misaki made sure that the contractor joined them before turning to retreat back to her own office. She could return once things had settled down.

“Director!”

Misaki jumped at Francesca’s sudden appearance; she hadn’t heard the woman coming up behind her.

“Have you seen the report on BK-201?” the analyst continued, and Misaki’s heart froze.

 _He_ _’s fine_ , she told herself as a wave of dizziness washed over her. _He_ _’s fine, he’s fine, he has to be_.

“What report?” she forced herself to ask evenly.

“It looks like he’s crossed the border from Cambodia to Thailand; at least, his star has shifted position.”

Misaki waited, but Francesca didn’t continue. “Is that all?”

The other woman’s brow furrowed. “All? What if he’s heading towards Bangkok?”

 _That_ _’s all - thank god._ She sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to slow her now-racing heart. “What if he is? How is Bangkok any different from Ho Chin Min - that’s where he was sighted last, right?”

“The last time he was in Bangkok, he burned down Interpol’s bureau headquarters!”

“Burned down?” Misaki repeated. “The whole building?”

“We shared the building with two embassies - it was a disaster.”

“You think he’s going to Bangkok to attack Interpol?” Misaki rubbed her temple again. “Whatever he might have done previously, it was on the Syndicate’s orders; but he’s not working for them any longer. He’s on the run _from_ them. Why would he care about anything at Interpol?”

 _Unless_ …Misaki snuck a look at Gmerek, now pacing in front of his desk while he talked on the phone. She _could_ think of one reason why Hei would make for an international police organization’s branch headquarters. Gmerek might have nothing to do with it. Hei might not even be going to Thailand; and anyway, Bangkok was a big city.

Still, it was worth keeping in mind.

She only wished that she could do something about it from here.

Abruptly she remembered the admonition that Kan had given her just fifteen minutes ago, and sighed to herself. What she could do was mention it to Saitou, and trust her team to keep their eyes and ears open. That was all. She didn’t care whether or not she impressed the Superintendent enough to secure the directorship, but he was right about where her focus needed to lie for right now.

“Who knows what contractors are thinking?” Francesca said. “I wanted to ask if I could go over your star activity data on BK-201, to compare it with ours and look for any patterns that might hint at what he’s planning. I know Chief Ishizaki has studied it quite a bit.”

 _Good luck predicting anything that man does_ , Misaki thought to herself with an inward smile. Out loud she said, “She has, but you should be asking our Astronomics liaison, not me.” She looked pointedly towards the corner of the room, where Ootsuka sat hunched over her computer, earbuds in both ears in what was probably a futile attempt to cancel out the din.

Francesca pursed her lips in obvious annoyance, but she nodded and made her way over to Ootsuka.

Misaki watched her pass by Aisha, and a glimmer of a strategy began to form in her mind. She’d barely had time to form the first thought, however, when Francesca let out an ear-piercing shriek.

Everyone in the room started; even the children stopped crying. Misaki’s hand flew to her shoulder holster before she realized that her weapon was still upstairs at her desk. All eyes turned to the Interpol star analyst, who was pointing at Ootsuka’s computer screen with a shaking finger.

“Is that - is that original artwork by Doi Yoshi?”

Ootsuka gaped up at the other woman. “Yes - I bought it at a con last month and scanned it in.”

“Signed??”

“Yes! I waited in line all night for it! Do you like Rose Morris?”

Francesca pulled up a chair, still staring at the image on the desktop and completely oblivious to the rest of the room. “I have the platinum collector’s editions for the first twelve seasons. I’m so behind on the current season though, it’s almost impossible to get Italian subtitles anywhere close to real-time; I’ve been trying to watch in Japanese but I just can’t follow the dialogue. I finally gave up after the one where the Australians got kicked out of the zoo. I never could figure out what they were trying to do.”

Ootsuka’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, that’s the start of the temple arc; they’re poachers for an exotic game restaurant. It’s so sad, I cried for a week!”

“Don’t tell me, don’t tell me!”

“I won’t spoil anything don’t worry - I do English translations for every episode and upload them to an anime community I moderate; I’ll put all of season eighteen on a thumb drive for you, so you can get caught up.”

The two women continued to talk as the conversations started up around them once again.

“Does every office have an anime weirdo?” Navid muttered behind Misaki.

She shook her head. “As long as they work together, I don’t care how weird they are. Did you need something?”

The bald man handed over a stapled report. “You’re welcome.”

The top page had some sort of device schematic. “This is…”

“The bomb that destroyed your warehouse in Sapporo. I had a vague memory of running across HG-139 activity in Manila a couple of years ago, where there was also a bombing. Kouno gave me the forensics report from the warehouse, and I dug up some old files from the Manila cases. It’s definitely the same type of bomb that was used there.”

“Not so hard to plant a bomb when you’re invisible…” Misaki mused. She flipped through the report. “It seems very basic; supplies that anyone can get at any hardware store or pharmacy. It’s not a lot to go on, but it’s more than we had before. Thank you - this must have taken time away from your Pandora investigation.”

The Interpol agent shrugged. “I don’t like to see cops getting killed either.”

He wandered back to his desk as Mrs. Siddiqi collected her husband and towed him and their two children from the office. Kouno collapsed into his chair and dropped his head onto his desk in clear exhaustion. Aisha crossed the room back to Misaki.

“She said she’s making chicken karahi tomorrow night and wants me to come over for dinner,” the contractor said, gazing after the Siddiqis with a puzzled expression.

“Is that a good dish?”

“I guess.”

“Then you should go.”

“I should?”

Misaki shrugged. Aisha had no social skills to speak of, but she wasn’t going to learn them by spending all her time with Section Four.

And _she_ was never going to convince Toda Toru that contractors had value by letting him report only on the violent crimes that a handful were committing.

She only prayed that Hei wasn’t planning on burning down Interpol - again.


End file.
